The Agreement
by Annaleise Marie
Summary: Five years after the final battle, the Ministry announces a census and registration due to destroyed, missing, and incomplete birth and death records. is there something darker behind this explanation? DH compliant, ignores epilogue, lemons
1. Census

**Tagging  
**Annaleise Marie

**Summary**: Five years after the final battle, the Ministry is finally starting to make sense of the wreck that is their records. They announce the need for all wizards to complete a census and registration, due to destroyed, missing, and incomplete birth and death records. But is there something darker lurking behind this simple explanation? [DH compliant, ignores epilogue, Dramione, language/lemons]

**Chapter One**: The Census

**AN**: My first HP fanfic. Hope you enjoy it! :D

/

_It was days before he allowed himself to breathe easily. He stayed in place, hidden, as the life of the dark forest went on around him. It was as though this place alone had been left untouched, unchanged, despite what had happened here. _

_He stood and dusted off his heavy travelling cloak, his wand still clutched tightly in his right hand. He hadn't had occasion to use it since they had come for Snape's body, but old habits die hard, and he hadn't yet put it away. They had come close to him - much too close. He was sure, for a split instant, that the redhaired woman may have seen him. She definitely turned his way, her eyes narrowing suspiciously, her mouth opening slightly to call out to the others. His wand twitched in his hand. _

_But then her son - the blood traitor with the missing ear - had called out to her, and she shuffled quickly away. _

_Now, it was time to move. He crept from his hiding place, his ears perked and his eyes sharp despite his fatigue. He would be safe if he could make it to Hogsmeade. His identity had been carefully hidden through the war, so no one would suspect, if he could just make it away from this damning location. _

_A twig snapped sharply behind him, and he spun on his heel. Lucius Malfoy was leaning casually against an ancient oak, smirking at him. He looked as disheveled as he had through most of the war, but the old arrogance was back. The other supposed it was due to the death of his tormentor. For while their Lord was surely justified, he could be cruel. And Malfoy had unfortunately mistepped one too many times. _

_"Malfoy," he acknowledged, with a sharp nod, unsmiling. "I'm surprised they haven't rounded you up just yet."_

_"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" the blonde sneered. The other man stared back coldly. It was nothing to him if Malfoy went free or rotted away in Azkaban. He had no use for him. "No, I've just been to see Draco. Narcissa and I are going on holiday for awhile, and I wanted to say goodbye."_

_"Holiday," the man scoffed. "Fleeing, more like."_

_"Waiting, even more so," Malfoy retorted. "The Dark Lord will most likely be back, after all."_

_"I don't believe so," the man answered, shrugging and turning away, preparing to make his way back to the edge of the forest. "But hide all you like for now, Malfoy," he added as an afterthought, turning and smirking at the blonde man. _

_"I imagine there's a new wolf in amongst the flock," he concluded, and with that he left the small clearing, leaving his commrade behind._

_/_

_(Five years later)_

Hermione Granger stared out the window of her single bedroom flat, waiting impatiently on the owl that delivered her _Daily Prophet_. It would be there today, the announcement she had been waiting on. She wasn't upset; she had no right to begrudge him, after all. She was the one who had cut nearly all ties with the magical world, after all.

It had been too hard, living there after the war. She had shouldered near-celebrity status before the final battle, and had even shouldered being hunted for a year. But that was all nothing compared to life afterwards. She couldn't deal with the constant attention, people fawning all over her or, in the worst cases, lumping her in for the blame in the deaths of their loved ones. It was unavoidable, she supposed, when you were that deeply entangled in such a horrific event, but it still wasn't something she wished to shoulder.

She unclasped the window and let it swing open, stepping back to allow a small barn owl to soar into her kitchen. It landed on the counter, ruffled its feathers, and glared at her impatiently.

"I know, it's a bit of a journey out here," she soothed the creature, handing it a treat before untying the paper from its leg. It looked at her reproachfully before taking flight again. She shook her head. It was like even the animals of that world begrudged her for leaving it almost completely.

She didn't look at the front page, at first, flipping instead to the middle sections as she closed the window back before heading to the kitchen table and her tea. There it was. Ron Weasley was smiling up at her from the grainy black and white page, laughter painting his features, his arms wrapped tightly around a small brunette.

**War Hero Ron Weasley to Wed Unknown**

"Ronald Weasley, generally acknowledged as one of the great heroes of the wizarding world, announced his engagement last week. While his betrothed remains unknown, this reporter was able to secure the above photo from a confidential source. The same source confirms that the couple have set a date for late summer. This reporter is confident, however, that once the new census (see page 2) is complete, more information as to the mystery girl's identity will be available."

Hermione snorted. Confidential source indeed. Everyone knew that Lavender Brown was at the center of that. She studied the little brunette's face. She didn't know her, or even her face, from school. It was possible that she was a few years younger, she supposed, or that she had gone to Beauxbatons or one of the other academies. Ginny had confirmed that she was a witch when she had written Hermione earlier in the week.

She folded the paper back and started on the front page. Nothing jumped out at her. There was to be an overhaul and inspection of the Floo Network the coming week, and it would be out of service for the better part of a day, but then Hermione hadn't had Floo access for the better part of three years.

Page two, however, held an announcement she hadn't been expecting.

**Ministry Fumbles Files**

"Following in a long series of brilliant moves by the Ministry since the fall of You-Know-Who, officials announced yesterday that many records have been lost, mistakenly destroyed, or found to be incomplete due to the lackluster performance of officials during the war.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, has extended his sincere apologies for any inconvenience this startling lack of organization on the part of the government we so rely on in our day-to-day lives may cause. He asks, however, that all wizarding citizens - including those who have relocated to the Muggle world - report to the offices of Napoleon Dekeyrel for registration on their scheduled days, decided by surname (see schedule below).

"Those in contact with witches and wizards residing in the Muggle world are urged to inform them of these measures and of their registration time. Any persons found in defiance of this order will be fined and face additional charges."

Charges? Hermione wrinkled her brow. That seemed a bit extreme for a simple matter of lost files. Actually, everything about this registration seemed a bit off. It reeked of the muggleborn registrations during the war.

Perhaps she should contact Harry. He had become an auror after school - he was bound to know something about this.

The thought had barely occured to her when there was a knock at her door. She looked toward the front door, which she had enchanted to be transparent from the inside, and saw none other than Harry himself.

He looked ragged, his hair even messier than normal, his robes disheveled. As she watched through the door, he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, rolling his shoulders as though to work out a knot.

She scooted away from the table, allowing the legs of her chair to scrape loudly against the tile. She hesitated at the door. She had written to Harry occasionally, Ginny a bit more, but for the better part of the years since the war, she had been out of contact. She was suddenly very nervous about seeing him.

"Mione, let me in," Harry called warily, pinching the bridge of his nose under his glasses. Hermione took a steadying breath and opened the door slowly, standing to the side to let Harry in. "I assume you've gotten the _Prophet _today," he said as he made his way into the kitchen, nodding as the sight of the paper on the table confirmed his assumption.

"Yes. I thought it was a lovely picture. I don't recognize her, though-"

"What?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing a bit in confusion. "Oh hell, not that, Hermione. I mean the registration announcement."

"Oh," Hermione said, feeling a bit dim. Of course. That was what she had been thinking about contacting him about after all. But seeing him had automatically brought the engagement announcement to her mind.

"Although Ron does want to invite you to the formal engagement party," Harry added, pulling a rose-coloured envelope from the breast pocket of his robes and extending it to her. She nodded, taking it timidly. Nothing strange about that. They were friends, after all. Or at least, they weren't on poor terms. "He would have sent it by owl but when he heard I was coming to see you he asked me to just go ahead and take it with me."

Hermione stared at the pretty, looped writing spelling out her name on the envelope. Clearly not Ron's. His fiancee had addressed this. Hermione wondered vaguely what she must think of her, what she had heard, what she had bought into of the gossip, what the Weasleys and Harry had explained...

She pushed it from her mind. Too much, too suddenly.

"So what do you think of this?" Harry asked, nodding to the census announcement.

"It seems strange," Hermione conceded. "At the very least, it's the first time I've agreed with Rita Skeeter. It's a horrible blunder."

"Are you seeing anyone?" Harry asked abruptly. Hermione shook her head. "Listen, I can't get any of us around this thing. We have to show. But just take my word for it: keep your plans for marriage and children to yourself. At least for now."

"Why's that?" she asked, flags immediately going up in her mind.

"Just take my word on it for now," Harry insisted. She sighed. She should've known she would no longer be kept in the loop. There was a time when Harry would have told her even his wildest suspicions. Those times were apparently over.

"Also," Harry started again hestitantly, breaking her train of thought. "I know you've got a life set up for yourself here but for now, I think you should return to the wizarding world."

There was silence following this announcement, as the wheels in Hermione's head began to spin. That was it? Just like that, he expected her to return?

"I can't go back, Harry!" she exclaimed, annoyed at how whiney her voice suddenly sounded. "I don't have anything for me there, anymore."

"What do you have here?" Harry demanded, throwing his arms up in exhasperation. "A tiny apartment and a dead end job in a world where you have to hide who you are?"

"That's not fair, Harry, and you know it!"

"Listen," Harry started again, seeming to struggle to calm himself. "There was a time when you would've trusted me if I told you to jump into the pits of hell. Could you do that just one more time? Please?"

"Harry..."

"Please, Hermione?" Harry insisted. Hermione bit her lip. "I promise I'll tell you everything once I know more, okay? But for now, we need you."

"Need me?" Hermione asked, wrinkling her brow before comprehension dawned on her. "Oh, Harry, no! He's not back-"

"No, of course not. But that doesn't mean there aren't other dangers out there, does it?" Harry asked. "You up to one more adventure, Hermione?"

/

**AN**: Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? I'd love to hear from you! :D


	2. Tension

**Tagging  
**Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Two**: Tension

**AN**: So, I just posted a few hours ago, I know, but I was very excited about this chapter, and couldn't wait. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did as I was writing it!

/

Hermione had been staring at the plain off-white wall in her room at the Leaky Cauldron for the better part of an hour. She didn't know what to do with herself now that she was back. She supposed she should go to Madam Malkin's, to see about some new robes. Hers hadn't fit properly in a few years, and if this census was anywhere near as similar to the muggleborn registrations as it seemed, she didn't want to wear those clothes to it.

As it was, she had three days until she had to appear before this Napoleon Dekeyrel. She had never heard of him, so she guessed he must be some simple pencil-pusher who had worked his way up during the last five years. Still, when Harry spoke of him, he had looked as though his name left a bad taste in his mouth. Office politics, she supposed. It was quite similar to the look he used to get when he spoke of Draco Malfoy.

She sighed as her stomach growled. She should probably at the very least go to find something to eat. Gathering up her wand and cloak, she left her room and wound her way down the stairs toward the small back garden that concealed the entrance to Diagon Alley.

As today was the first day of the census, it seemed that the whole of the wizarding world had flooded Diagon Alley, making a day of it, shopping then heading to the ministry, heading to the ministry and then shopping. Hermione was jostled from side to side as she made her way towards Gringotts.

She stood for a moment outside of the tall marble institution, overwhelmed by the sheer enormity of it. She felt eleven again, soaking all of this in for the first time, but without the comfort of her parents. It had been so long. How long would they keep an untouched account open? Did she even still have funds in this world? She guessed she did. She had heard there were vaults belonging to the old families that had died out, still just sitting there. They probably wouldn't close hers after only five years.

A short, heart-stopping, stomach-churning cart ride later, and Hermione stood out in the chilly air once more. She wandered around aimlessly in search of somewhere to eat. She wasn't in the mood for pub food, so the Leaky Cauldron was out, but the only other place she could think of off the top of her head was Florean Fortescue's, which she quickly decided against.

She finally spotted a small cafe a few doors down from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes - which she thought looked strangely subdued despite its bright ads, though that may have just been because she knew Fred was gone - and made her way to the door, sliding through the crowd of people milling about the till near the door.

A blonde witch motioned for her to seat herself, and she took the last open table at the back of the room, relieved that there hadn't been any of the uproar that had followed her constantly immediately after the final battle. Maybe coming back wouldn't be so bad. At least on a temporary basis, anyway.

She placed her order with the waiter and then settled further into the booth, pulling a book from her bag to read while she waited. It was quite a few moments before she became suddenly, uncomfortably aware that she was being watched.

Her head snapped up, her hand going to her wand in her pocket on reflex as her eyes fell on the last person she expected to see out and about in Diagon Alley, much less standing at her table looking expectantly at her.

"Malfoy!" she sputtered. He quirked an eyebrow at her as though she might be daft.

"Granger," he returned. "I suppose you didn't hear me then?"

"No," she said, her eyes narrowing in distrust. "What do you want?"

"You got the last table," he said, motioning around to the packed cafe. "I was wondering if I could join you. It's not healthy at all to lunch standing up."

"That's fine," she said, snapping her book shut. "I'll leave. You can have the table."

"No need," Draco said, still looking questioningly at her. "Plenty of room." He slid into the booth opposite her, picking up the menu and studying it.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"Believe it or not, Granger, being evil requires quite a lot of sustenance," he answered snidely. "Is that what you wanted to hear? I'm here for lunch, of course, just like everyone else."

"No, I guess I mean, why are you here, and not..." How do you ask someone why they're not imprisoned right now? She wasn't sure, and she regretted every starting to speak to him.

"I'm in Diagon Alley because I just got done with the census. As my mother's maiden name is Black, I was able to get it out of the way today instead of waiting, and as I said I am now having lunch," he answered curtly. "As for why I'm not in Azkaban, if that's what you're asking, I was pardoned four and a half years ago."

"You? Pardoned?" Hermione scoffed.

"It's old news now, Granger. You're slipping."

"Last I heard your family was still in hiding," Hermione answered.

"Well, I guess when you're only half a witch, you only get to hear half the story, then," he sneered. She gritted her teeth. Things like this were exactly why she left the wizarding world.

"That's it, I'm leaving," she spat. "Enjoy your meal, Malfoy, and congratulations on winning the table."

"Too good to eat with me?

She froze at that. Was he seriously patronizing her about her blood status and then accusing her of acting superior? God, he would never change. Whoever pardoned him had to be a bloody idiot.

"You preach equality, and fair treatment, but you don't practice it," Draco sneered. Hermione bristled but worked to keep her features schooled.

"What are you on about now, Malfoy?" she snapped.

"You know who else was tried and pardoned of war crimes?" Draco demanded. "Mundungus Fletcher, of your precious little Order. Same as me. But I bet you'd sooner sit down to lunch with him."

"Don't be ridiculous, Mundungus' manners are deplorable," Hermione retorted. "Aside from that, Mundungus is a theif, not a murderer."

"I'm not a murderer either, and you know that, you snot-nosed cocky little mudbl-" Draco broke off, his jaw clenched, his cheeks tinged pink.

"What Malfoy? What were you going to say? _Mudblood_? Was that it? C'mon you traitor! You sodding _murderer_! Say it!"

"I'm not a murderer, Granger!"

"You stood by and watched innocent people die and you did _nothing_! You watched me get tortured and you would have just as soon watched me die! You're as good as a murderer!"

"Who are you to pass judgement on me? I did what I had to in order to survive! You, on the other hand, can't even handle this world in peace time!" Draco snapped. "Yeah, at least I didn't run away! Where the hell have you been the last five years? At least I faced what I had been a part of!"

"You'll never know the pain you and your family caused," Hermione hissed.

"What about Bellatrix? And all the other death eaters that died at the Order's hands? You think you're so clean?"

"I don't give a damn about Bellatrix." It was then that she realized they were no longer yelling. They didn't need to. The whole cafe had gone quiet. This wasn't really how she had wanted to reintroduce herself to the wizarding world.

"She still had family. As crazy as she was, as evil as she was, she still had people who loved her. Just like Fred Weasley, and Lupin, and Nymphadora, and Sirius Black, and all of those others," Draco said, his eyes glinting. "And you disappeared, ran away, feeling all justified and righteous, but by your own logic you're as much of a murderer as I am. The difference is, I've spent the last five years facing up to it and paying for it."

She had never thought of it that way. But he couldn't be right, could he? That was a ridiculous concept, Draco Malfoy lecturing her on morality.

"Now, I suppose we can move past this, or we can continue seeing each other as good for nothing scum of the earth murderers," Draco continued cordially, as if they hadn't just been at each other's throats. "I for one want a sandwich, regardless of your decision, so I will be staying here. You're welcome to stay as well, if you wish."

/

As the clock struck midnight, Hermione rolled over for what seemed like the thousandth time that night. She let out a low growl and pummelled her pillow angrily. She still hadn't been able to clear Draco Malfoy's words from her mind.

Where did he get off, putting her on his level? Or lower, even, accusing her of not 'facing up to' what she had supposedly done? She had been out there risking her neck to help Harry stop the deaths and violence and horror. It was totally different than what Draco had done.

"The nerve..." she muttered angrily, rolling over again and glaring at the ceiling. She was getting nowhere. Maybe she should sneak downstairs for a quick drink to quiet her mind.

She threw back the covers , settling on this idea and reached for her housecoat, checking the pocket for her wand on the way to the door.

The hall outside was abandoned, and she thought for a moment that the pub was as well. But then of course, it had been a long time since anything so lucky as that had happened to her, and she nearly groaned out loud at what she saw when she entered the bar.

"Granger," the man drawled softly. "We really must stop meeting like this."

/

**AN**: Much thanks to **helikesitheymikey**, **Mrs Angela McCarty ily xx**, **ApterousAngel**, and **Dianna** for reviewing chapter one! Love you guys lots, and I'm glad you're all along for the ride!

Answers to questions from last chapter: **If they lost all their files how are they gonna prove who is pure blooded, half-blooded, and muggle born?** Well, I never said for sure that they were going to be registering their blood status, it was just something that Hermione was comparing it to from her past.

**Tagged? Like as in tattooed or something (ex: the Jews during the Holocaust)? **No. Not exactly. I did mean tagged like tracking and keeping tabs on people, but that will come into play a bit later. I should mention as well that "Tagging" is a working title, until I find something that fits better.

Thoughts? Questions? Comments? Can't wait to hear from you! :D


	3. Prejudice

**Tagging  
**AnnaleiseMarie

**Chapter Three**: Prejudice

**AN**: I've been really pleased with the response to this story so far! Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! And to those of you who put this story on alert, don't be shy - I want to hear from you too! :D

/

_"It wasn't fair, what I said to you," he muttered, turning his drink slightly on its base, watching the liquid inside stir with the motion. _

_"It's alright," she said quietly, but she was too still, her own drink still untouched. _

_"No," he said. "I know what it's like... it's the sort of thing people have been saying to me for the last five years." He paused, taking a sip of his drink. His sixth? He thought so, but he wasn't sure. It no longer burned his throat, so it had been enough, regardless._

_"Malfoy, I'm-"_

_"How long will we pay for what our parents did?" he interrupted her. "It's like... Merlin," he swore, losing his train of thought._

_"My parents didn't do anything," she said stiffly._

_"You know what I mean," he said. He hoped she did._

/

It had been two days now since they had sat in the Leaky Cauldron. Draco couldn't stop thinking about it. Why had he said said those things? They were things that, ever-present as they were, he hadn't allowed himself to say to anyone, even those he might count as friends.

He hadn't seen her since. She was still at the Leaky Cauldron, he was sure. Her registration group wasn't scheduled for another day yet. Where would she go after that? Would she return to the muggle world? He didn't know how any witch or wizard could stand to live there. But that's where she had been, according to what she told him that night. For a bit of anonymity, she had said.

He wrinkled his nose. It wasn't even just the muggles that filled him with such distaste. There couldn't be any record of her attending school there, so what kind of job could she possibly get? What quality of life could she expect? It didn't seem at all like a good trade to him.

But what did he care? She was just Granger, after all. The bushy-haired buck-toothed know-it-all had been a giant pain in his neck as long as he had known her.

And okay, maybe her hair had calmed a bit, and she had shrunk her teeth after that hex back in school, but still. Once Granger, always Granger.

Always a pain in the neck.

Draco hissed as a real pain started in his neck and whipped his head around, hissing again as the motion irritated it.

"What the hell was that for, Blaise?" he demanded, bringing his hand up and rubbing the sore spot. Stinging hex, he realized as he felt a welt forming. Great.

"Felt like it," Blaise said, shrugging. "Besides, you've been zoning out all day. You're boring me."

Draco stared out over the back garden, still subconciously rubbing his neck. Zane, Blaise's son, was zooming around on a toy broomstick, nearly crashing into everything he came near. Draco held his breath and clutched his wand tightly, ready to cast a cushioning charm as Zane came dangerously close to a large rose bush, only to turn at the last second.

Blaise yawned widely as Draco exhaled in relief before turning to glare at him.

"What?" Blaise asked innocently.

"Shouldn't you be a little more concerned about your kid's well-being?"

"Hey mate, kids fall down and get scraped up. It happens," Blaise defended. "Besides, up until now you've found this shit funny. We used to bet on whether we'd actually need to heal him or not. What's gotten into you the last few days?"

"Well..." Draco started, trying to decide how to phrase this. He didn't want anyone to know that Granger of all people had turned him all introspective. "I ran into someone from school the other day, and it just got me thinking about the past and the bad choices we made..."

"You have _got_ to stop dwelling on that," Blaise groaned. "It wasn't our fault; we were too young to know any better than to just blindly follow what our parents had taught us. Why do you think we were pardoned and they weren't?"

"How is your mother, by the way?" Draco asked, distracted slightly.

"Oh you know," Blaise said, taking a sip of his tea. "She's still enjoying her nice little room, hugging herself all day, calling Zane by my name when we go to visit. Guess it wasn't just the dementors making people crazy."

"Hmm," Draco muttered.

"Any news from your parents?" Blaise asked.

"Not since they left Italy. Apparently Potter was intercepting thier letters," he said. Zane chose that moment to crash into the old willow tree a few meters away. Blaise sighed and stood up as Zane started to wail.

"Welp. Five galleons says we have to heal him."

"You're on," Draco agreed as they set off to check on the boy.

/

"You won't believe who I ran into the other day," Hermione said casually as she watched Ginny bustle about the living room, straightening throw pillows and the like. She couldn't quite figure out why, given that the room was already unnaturally tidy, but she supposed that maybe Ginny was nesting, given that she was nearly full-term with her and Harry's second child.

"Who?" Ginny asked casually as she stopped short on her way to the sofa to refold a blanket resting on the back of the arm chair.

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione answered darkly. Ginny froze for only half a beat and then sighed irritably before placing the blanket back in its place neatly, albeit with a bit more force than was probably necessary. "Gin?"

"Well, it just irritates me, you know?" she grumbled. "We fight for years, lose some of our closest friends, all because of what his family and their... friends, for lack of a better word... did, and he just swaggers around here like he's not responsible in the least. I'd like to get hold of the person who pardoned him and the rest of that lot and just..."

She made a violent motion with her hands as though to throttle an invisible person.

"And you know, he makes work _impossible _for Harry," she continued. "Always stepping in any time Harry comes close to getting anyone put away for what happened back then, with statutes of limitations and pardons and technicalities. And you know his parents have slipped away _again_? Gave Harry the slip around Florence last month. Really, you would think that at their age-"

"So they are still on the run," Hermione observed. "That must've been what he meant by half of the story."

"What?" Ginny asked, distracted from her tirade for a moment.

"I wasn't aware that he had been pardoned when I ran into him. Thought he had gone with them," Hermione said, waving her hand dismissively.

"So you actually talked to him?" Ginny asked, her eyes widening in shock.

"Well, short of clobbering him over the head with my menu, there was very little else I could do," Hermione said. "Then he was at the Leaky Cauldron when I went down for a nightcap that night."

She didn't mention that she had ended up having a drink with him, and that they had sat together for most of the night, more often in silence than not.

"He's a slimy little ferret who shouldn't be permitted to walk free after all he's done," Ginny muttered. "Should've hexed him good for me."

"I didn't realize your animosity was still so strong after all these years," Hermione said softly.

"Well, yes, Hermione! Or have you forgotten that he as good as tried to hand Harry to Voldemort? Or that he smuggled all of those Death Eaters into the school our sixth year? Or that he tried to kill Dumbledore-"

"Now, that's not really fair," Hermione broke in. "We know why that happened now."

"Why are you defending him?" Ginny demanded, her eyes buldging a bit, her face reddening.

"I just... it's been years, you know? And Malfoy was just a child," Hermione muttered quietly.

"So were we," Ginny said shortly, crossing her arms over her large belly. "And we knew better."

_"How long will we pay for what our parents did?" _Draco had asked her.

She thought she knew a bit of what he meant now.

Before she could open her mouth to reply, there was a loud crack outside and the next second the door swung open. Harry tromped in, looking haggard.

"Glad you're here," he said shortly by way of greeting when he saw Hermione. "I've found out some things about the registration."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, immediately interested. Now that it was only a day away for her, she was growing more anxious about it.

Harry nodded before flopping down on the chair, upsetting the blanket that Ginny had just refolded. She pursed her lips tightly but didn't say anything.

"I ran into Justin Finch-Flechly today," Harry started, running his fingers through his hair as though irritated. "You know him, he was in our year. Anyway, he works down in the Department of Muggle Relations. Or, he did. He went for his registration today, and when I found him he was cleaning out his desk, shouting about how the whole thing is a bunch of shit and that they could all kiss his ass."

Hermione and Ginny both stared at Harry in shock.

"But that doesn't sound like Justin at all," Hermione said finally.

"I know. So I asked him what he was on about, and he told me about the registration.

"Well, what is it all about? Is it like last time?" Hermione asked.

"A bit," Harry sighed. "But better in some ways... Worse in others."

"Better how?" Hermione asked, dread coiling in the pit of her stomach.

"Well, there's none of that business about stealing wands or magic or whatever. They're not denying that muggleborns or half-bloods are wizards, and they're not imprisoning anyone," Harry said. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

"How is it worse, then?"

"Well, things like what happened to Justin..." Harry started and then trailed off for a moment before clearing his throat. "Well, most of the registration is pretty standard stuff, like your name, your parents, whether your parents are wizards or muggles, your address, your marriage status, and if applicable, your spouse's name and maiden name. But that's where it gets a bit sticky. According to Justin, if you answer that you're married to a muggle, you're given the choice to dissolve your marriage and consent for a memory charm to be performed on your spouse, or you must turn in your wand and relocate to the muggle world."

"What?" Hermione gasped. "Why?"

"I'm not sure of anything yet, but it's not hard to guess," Harry said darkly. "Napoleon Dekeyrel is one of those that hasn't ever been connected to Voldemort or the Death Eaters, but still holds 'old values'. He started working at the ministry a couple years ago. Quite the character. Claims to be from France but doesn't have the accent or observe any of their customs. But all of his paperwork checks out. Anyway, I'm sure he's behind this, and although he can't do anything about half-bloods already living in our world, legally anyway, he seems to be trying to put a stop to it in the next generation."

"Oh my..." Ginny gasped.

"My guess is that next he won't allow muggleborns to be informed of our world, and just wait for their magic to die out," Harry said glumly.

"Does it do that? Just... die out?" Ginny asked.

"It takes a very long time, but yes, if it's never used it will eventually weaken and disappear. Remember Merope Gaunt? She lost her magic before she died," Harry said. "Point is, he's found a technically legal way to keep the bloodlines as 'clean' as possible."

"Well," Hermione said softly. "I guess I'll just tell them that I'm not married, and not seeing anyone. And then, if you want to try to combat this somehow, we will. It's nowhere near as bad as last time."

"That's it?" Harry asked, shocked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're just so willing to leap into what could be another war. Seems odd," Harry said.

"Well, no one _wants_ another war, Harry," Hermione said quickly. "But we can't just let them undo everything we fought for!"

"She's right," Ginny said assuredly. "Then everything that happened would have been pointless! Besides, if you're right about what's happening, I don't want James and Albus Severus to grow up like that."

Harry sighed, sinking further into the couch. Ginny crossed her arms over her stomach again.

"Harry?" she asked shortly.

"Come on, Gin," he said quietly. "This isn't like last time. For starters, there's no Voldemort."

"That we know of!"

"Gin! There's no Voldemort. Trust me on that," he said. Ginny seemed to be gritting her teeth. Hermione suddenly seemed very out of place, as though she were witnessing something that ought to be kept private. "Second, there's very little we can do. It's all legal."

"Legal," Ginny snorted, and Hermione understood it. Technically, after Voldemort had taken over the Ministry last time, what the Death Eaters had been doing was legal.

"And last, we're not in a position that we can just go galavanting off revenging every little injustice! I mean, we have kids! And-" he stopped abruptly at the look on his wife's face. Ginny was starting to almost swell with fury in a way that reminded Hermione strongly of Molly.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" she screamed, making the others jump. "Have you lost your mind? Just the other day you were all worked up about this!"

"I think I should just go..." Hermione started, getting up from her seat. The other two didn't look at her.

"You even went and got Hermione! And now you're having second thoughts? Now you're just going to let this happen? What the hell is wrong with you? Well, I'll tell you something, if you want to just sit by and watch everything we worked for go to shit then that's your business but I for one have never been more disappointed in you in my life! I can't believe you're the same man I married!"

"Ginny-"

"You can just go to hell, Harry!" Ginny finished, turning on her heel and storming off up the stairs. A deafening silence fell over the living room.

"I'm just... going to leave," Hermione said quietly after a minute. Harry nodded. "I'll come by tomorrow evening and let you know how the registration went?" Harry nodded again. "Okay then... Good luck, Harry," she said awkwardly as she opened the door so that she could leave the wards to apparate.

"You too," she heard him say softly before the door shut behind her.

/

**AN**: Please don't condemn Harry or Ginny just yet? At least, not for another few chapters?

Questions or comments? I'd love to hear from you all! :D


	4. Registration

**Tagging**  
Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Four**: Registration

**AN**: Major thanks to **Lissie1994**, **Dianna**, **Bubbles**, **its zabini not zambini**, **Hans153**, and **4SnowWolf **for their kind words and the time they took to review! I wish I could reply to all of you personally, but I figure you'd rather have the next chapter, by the sounds of it. XD

I hope you enjoy it!

Also, as a note of warning: I don't buy into the "oh, I've learned the error of my ways and although I slip up and say something stupid now and then, I love muggles now!" version of Draco that you sometimes see in Dramione's. So keep in mind that while Draco isn't as volatile as he used to be, and regrets the events that happened in the past, he _will _still hold some of those old values. I apologize if that bothers anyone.

/

Hermione awoke before the sun had even risen the morning of her registration and couldn't manage to get back to sleep. She was anxious, unsure of what more there was to the census than what Harry had managed to dig up.

Despite the early hour, she got up and started getting ready, taking special care to look respectable in her new dark blue robes. She spent extra time smoothing her hair and applying the makeup that she rarely wore. She slipped her wand, which felt foreign in her grip after so many years of disuse, into her pocket. Short of warding her apartment and enchanting the door when she had first moved into her apartment, and of course the occasional apparition, she couldn't remember the last bit of magic she had done.

After triple-checking her reflection, she grabbed her purse and a book from her nightstand and left her room, making her way down to the restaurant of the Leaky Cauldron.

After placing her breakfast order at the bar, she took her seat at one of the scrubbed wooden tables in the corner, crossing her legs and opening her book. No matter how hard she tried to concentrate, however, she could do little more but stare blankly at the words on the page.

What if they made her leave the wizarding world because of the time she had spent in the muggle world? Or because her address was in muggle Dartmoor? What if Harry hadn't realized just how strict the new guidelines were, and they were tossing out any muggleborns?

It wasn't that it would hurt her much to turn in her wand and return home - she had, after all, opted to move there and live without magic up until Harry had turned up. But if she knew Harry as well as she thought she did, he would soon decide to fight this whole thing. And what good would she be doing that far away, without her magic? They had gotten through the last war by all working together. Would everything be okay without her?

It was an arrogant, self-important thought, she knew, but for some reason she couldn't shake it.

She looked up as her plate was set in front of her to thank the barkeep, but stopped abruptly when she saw that it was not Tom, as she had expected, but rather Malfoy. He set another plate of eggs down across from her and then took a seat, seemingly unconcerned by his dining company.

"We really can't keep meeting like this, remember Malfoy?" she said with a little more venom than she had intended, but she was stressed and aggitated, and Malfoy was the last person who could possibly help the situation.

"Then perhaps you should stop skulking about my favourite dining places," Draco said simply.

"Your favourite dining places?" Hermione scoffed. "As if you'd really rather eat anywhere instead of your dining room, catered to by a handful of little innocent enslaved elves?"

"That old song and dance?" Malfoy sniffed. "Fine then. First, I don't much care to eat in a room where so many died. It puts me off of my appetite. Second, most of our elves passed during the time the Dark Lord spent in the manor, and I haven't gotten around to replacing them. And finally, I often have business in Diagon and Knockturn Alley, and it is quite a bit more convenient for me to eat while I am out. Good enough for you?"

"Of course you would have business in Knockturn Alley," Hermione scoffed.

"Believe it or not, there are a fair few legitimate businesses there."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged.

"Rather, there are a fair few businesses there that deal in certain legitimate aspects on the side," Malfoy ammended, smirking.

"I would imagine so, otherwise they would have aurors swarming the place until there was nothing left," Hermione mused. Malfoy nodded.

"Quite smart of them, really," he said. Hermione scoffed again. "On to more civil matters-"

"With you?" Hermione interrupted doubtfully.

"I am quite capable of being civil, Granger," Malfoy insisted, still smirking. "Unlike you, I suppose."

Hermione glared at him but stayed quiet. Malfoy picked up her book carefully, keeping his thumb in the binding to save her place, and inspected the cover.

"_Wintergirls_?" he asked.

"It's fiction. By a muggle author," Hermione explained shortly.

"Clearly," Malfoy said softly, looking at the book in distaste. Hermione quirked an eyebrow at him again. "Well, just look at the flimsy binding. It would never withstand the ages."

"Sorry everything can't be bound in leather, Malfoy," she grumbled. "Besides, it's not a reference book, it's for entertainment. It doesn't _need_ to withstand the ages."

Malfoy shrugged and set the book back down.

"So your registration is today," he said conversationally after a moment. Hermione nodded slowly. "I suggest getting there early. You'd be surprised how many people there will be. I could've sworn the whole world turned up on the first day."

"What do you think they're trying to do?" Hermione asked. Malfoy shrugged.

"Replace lost records like they say, I suppose," he said. "Nothing really seemed odd about it. A little inconvenient, of course. I don't know why they couldn't do it as a mailer. I suppose because they weren't sure how many of us were out there, maybe..."

"So they didn't say anything weird to you?" Hermione asked.

"Such as what?"

"Well, I heard they're giving people the option to either dissolve their marriages if they married a muggle, or to turn in their wands and relocate to the muggle world," she said. Malfoy stared at her blankly. "Of course, then, I wouldn't suppose you married a muggle, or have ever even held a conversation with one, for that matter, so maybe it was a silly question."

"I'm not married at all, for the record," Malfoy said. "Perhaps that's why I didn't encounter that situation."

"You're not married?" Hermione asked, unable to conceal her shock. "But I thought all of you purebloods had arranged marriages?"

"Only the women," Malfoy corrected her. "The reason being that they must produce an heir before they become infertile. The men, however, marry for love. Or lust. Or infatuation. Or social standing. Whatever reason we see fit, really."

"How fair," Hermione observed sarcastically. Malfoy shrugged.

"Just the way it's always been. Most luck out, though. Even the women aren't forced to marry until they're twenty-five, so by that time most have found someone they can at least stand to be around. Take my mother and father for instance."

"_Your _mother and father loved each other?" Hermione asked doubtfully.

"Pay attention, Granger, I said they can at least stand to be around each other. And I suppose they shared a bed at least once," Malfoy mused. Hermione shuddered at the mental image that followed his statement. "At any rate, my father represented everything my mother wanted: purity, wealth, security, and exceptional social standing. My mother, for her part, was beautiful and obedient, and quiet, which was all my father wanted."

"Your family is so twisted," Hermione said.

"So I suppose your parents married because they fell madly in love and wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of their pitiful little days together then, did they?" Malfoy asked with false sentiment.

"As a matter of fact, they did."

"Well, I suppose that when you're that low on the ladder of society, you can do things like that without it mattering."

"That low? What are you trying to say?"

"Well, they _are _muggles," Malfoy smirked. Hermione felt like she had been smacked. She had thought that, on some level, Malfoy may have changed. But no, he was just the same arrogant, spineless git he had always been.

She was torn between shouting at him for what he had said, and laughing at her own stupidity.

"Of course," she said. "You haven't changed at all, have you?"

"I feel no need to change, Granger."

"Then all of that ridiculousness you spouted the other day about being innocent and not knowing any better, and paying for it-"

"Stop right there, Granger," Malfoy interrupted, his voice tight. "Those are _not_ the same thing. Of course I still think wizards are superior to muggles. That is a fact. We can do things that they cannot. Muggles are in the same way superior to apes or household pets. Try to argue that, I'd love to hear it."

Hermione opened her mouth, but Malfoy quickly raised his hand to stop her.

"No, on second thought, I have neither the interest nor the energy to argue fact with you," he said. "However, on the flip side, I do not think that _I _am superior to say, _you_, because you are in fact a witch. I also do not think that muggles should be hunted for sport, the same way I would not hunt an ape or a pet. So you see? Two totally different things. I have not changed my views since then, and in that sense I was innocent. I did not agree with the things the Dark Lord was doing, but it's hard to turn your back on it when you're a child and your family does agree, and you can't articulate, at that age, the same argument I just presented you with."

Hermione kept her jaw set, digesting his words. One side of her wanted to dismiss it as a load of baloney, but another could see his point. Wizards were superior in skill - and skill only - to muggles. But comparing them to a completely different species was a bit of a stretch, and everything in her rebelled against his opinion.

"You are so full of it, Malfoy," she sneered.

"If by 'it' you are referencing my unbridled charm, intellect, and honour, then yes, I would have to agree that I am," Malfoy smirked. "Now, don't you think you should be going? You'll be late to the Ministry, and then there will be a line."

Hermione glared at him and checked her watch, realizing quickly that she didn't have time to correct his "error" in interpretting her remark. With one last withering look at the blond man, she stood, laying a few coins down for her meal, and made her way to the fireplace to floo to the Ministry.

/

Hermione got there right at seven, but there were already four people waiting in line in front of her. A stern looking witch was ushering the first person into an office on the right side of the corridor.

Hermione took the next empty seat and then quickly checked her hair and makeup, relieved to find that she didn't look as rough as she felt after her arguement with Malfoy. She leaned back, crossing her arms and legs, and waited to be called inside.

After about an hour, she was next in line. All of the people before her had gone into the office and left again without incident.

She jumped as a lavender-coloured paper airplane seemingly appeared out of thin air and started nudging her shoulder. It was an interdepartmental memo, she knew, but it still startled her. She took it hesitantly, seeing her name scrawled across one of the wings.

She unfolded it with trembling fingers, smoothing out the creased parchment on her thigh before holding it up to read in the dim light of the hall.

_Hermione_, it began in Harry's hurried, untidy handwriting.

_Found new info. Tell them you're engaged to someone. Anyone. Any wizard at all, for now. Do not let them take your wand. Will explain more and sort out further details later. _

_Love, Harry_.

"Next," came the clipped voice of the severe-looking witch. Hermione jumped again and stood, hurriedly folding up memo and shoving it into the pocket of her robes as she followed the witch to the office door.

The office was smaller than she had expected, with only four wizards in attendance. She had expected it to be like last time, with precedings somewhat resembling a full Wizengamot trial.

"Come in," a man who looked to be slightly older than herself said kindly, gesturing to the seat across from the other four. Hermione repressed a shudder at the coldness that had remained in his eyes even as his face stretched into a soothing smile.

"My name is Napoleon Dekeyrel," the man introduced himself, and Hermione immediately trusted him even less. "These is my colleague, Andrea Cipoletti, and Rita Skeeter, writer for the _Daily Prophet_."

"We've met," Hermione said, glaring at Rita. "Nice to meet you two," she added, nodding politely to Dekeyrel and Cipoletti.

"Well, thank you for coming in today. I assure you this will not take long, and we will try to make it as painless as possible," Dekeyrel said, chuckling a bit as though joking. Hermione took careful note of the coldness that lingered still in his eyes. "Why don't we start with your name. For the record, of course. Everyone knows you, I'm sure."

"Hermione Jean Granger," she said, her voice strong although her nerves mounted with every passing moment.

"Address?" he asked, not looking up from his paper. Hermione's mouth went dry as Rita Skeeter leaned forward, seemingly without realizing it. She hadn't been able to get hold of where Hermione had disappeared to after the war. Mainly because Lavender Brown hadn't been informed.

"226 North Dossey Road, Dartmoor," she answered, her voice wavering a bit towards the end.

"That is a muggle community, I believe?" Cipoletti asked eagerly, consulting a colour-coded map spread out on the table before her.

"Primarily," Hermione said noncommittally.

"Do you still use magic?" she continued, peering at Hermione interestedly over wire-rimmed glasses.

"With discretion."

"Birth date?" Dekeyrel asked, a smirk tugging at his lips after the last question.

"September 19, 1979."

"Parents?"

"William and Jane Granger," she answered dutifully, her heart now pounding in her throat.

"Mother's maiden name?"

"Harold." There was a pause after her answer in which Rita's Quick Quotes Quill quivered in anticipation and Cipoletti seemed to nearly vibrate herself with excitement.

"You are muggleborn, I believe?" Dekeyrel asked, he alone appearing calm between the two women.

"Yes," Hermione answered quietly.

"Hmm," Dekeyrel hummed before shuffling his papers and dipping his quill once more into the ink. "Marital status?"

"Single," Hermione answered.

"And are you perhaps dating someone in any serious sense?" Dekeyrel continued. "Perhaps someone from your area?"

_They want to know if I'm dating a muggle_, Hermione realized. Her mind raced. Why hadn't she thought of someone when she had first gotten Harry's letter? She was so surprised by it that it hadn't occured to her at the time, but it seemed stupid now.

"I am, but not from Dartmoor," she said, hesitating as her mind raced. Harry, but he was married, and they would know that. Ron, but he was engaged and that was just in the paper. Neville, but he had wed Luna last June. Her mind skipped over names in her head, dismissing each as soon as they occurred. Were there no single wizards left?

"What is your significant other's name?" Dekeyrel asked eagerly, and Hermione could tell that she was about to be in some serious trouble if she didn't think of something. Her hand gripped her wand tightly in her pocket. She had to think of something! Someone, any wizard, like Harry had said. Any single wizard would do for now.

"Draco Malfoy," she blurted out before she could stop herself.

"A Malfoy?" Cipoletti said doubtfully, peering over her glasses at Hermione once more. "A Malfoy is dating a muggleborn?"

"Oh, how _lovely_," Rita said, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "How sensational!"

"How surprising," Dekeyrel said smoothly, his eyes suggesting he didn't believe her in the least. Hermione schooled her features to remain calm. She had said it, now she would have to play it off. "I do hope I'll be seeing the both of you tomorrow night, then."

"Tomorrow night?" Hermione asked, taken aback.

"Oh yes. Or didn't Draco tell you?" Cipoletti said in a falsely sweet voice. "There's a gala tomorrow night. He's already RSVP'd, and we'll all be there."

"Oh, it must have slipped his mind," Hermione said, trying to sound casual, as though this sort of thing happened all of the time. "It happens all of the time, really." There. That should convince them.

"I'm sure," Dekeyrel said. "Well, then, until tomorrow night, Miss Granger. Thank you so much for your cooperation with the census."

"Not at all," she said softly, glad to be excused.

"Tomorrow night, dear," Cipoletti said, smirking.

"Yes," Hermione agreed before quickly leaving the office, shutting the door behind her.

"Next!" the witch snapped as she hurried down the corridor.

What the hell was she going to do?

/

**AN**: Oh, Hermione has certainly gotten herself in deep this time, hasn't she? So unlike her, to be that easily flustered. I think Draco really has quite the affect on her, hmm?

And now, I'd love to hear from all of you! I may be convinced to swing the next chapter by tomorrow, if the response to this one is anything like the last!


	5. Deal

**WAITWAITWAIT! Before you go, "Oh, I've already read this chapter! Why did I get an alert for this?" - Please note that it has been rewritten! Massively! As in, it only resembles the first version in the slightest! If you have not read this version, please do so before reading anything else! If you wish to review the rewrite, you can do one of two things: Send me a PM, or log out and leave an anonymous review. You can use your penname as the anonymous name. I hope you enjoy it! I promise it's eons better than the first one! Thanks so much for reading! :D**

**Tagging**Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Five**: Deal

**AN**: The response to last chapter was great! It made me so happy! :3 So, true to my word, here is the next chapter! :D

Special thanks to **-typing-pictures-**, **Guisoris**, **Tsuki916**, **its zabini not zambini**, **4SnowWolf**, **ApterousAngel**, and an awesome unnamed anonymous reviewer. I love you all! /snuggles

Now, I had already written 2,000 words of this chapter once, and then I accidentally closed without saving, and had to rewrite it. I think it was better the first time around, so I apologize if the first half of the chapter isn't as great as you were expecting. D:

/

Hermione burst into the Leaky Cauldron, ignoring the puzzled looks she received from the few patrons scattered about the place at the odd hour and hurrying to the back courtyard that concealed the arched entrance to Diagon Alley. She had to find Malfoy. He had said he had business in town today… But where?

She considered this as she impatiently tapped the correct brick in the wall, squeezing through the second the archway had opened enough. She had no idea what Malfoy Industries did, now that she thought about it, or if Malfoy Industries even still existed with Lucius on the run. She didn't know how things like that were handled in such a situation - would the business pass on to Draco in Lucius' absence? Or would he have to pass away?

Regardless, Hermione was left with little to work with as she bustled through the crowds in Diagon Alley, peering anxiously through the storefront windows. As she passed by Flourish and Blotts, she remembered the first time she had met Lucius Malfoy. The man had been quite rude, really. Madam Malkin's, next door, was where Harry had reportedly first met Malfoy. Now that she came to think of it, most of the places she had ever seen Draco or heard of him frequenting had to do with typical start-of-term shopping.

All except one.

She took a sharp right as she approached Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, rushing down the narrow path that led to Knockturn Alley. She slowed once she reached the dimly-lit street, every nerve in her body suddenly alert to the fact that she was in a very dangerous place indeed. Knockturn Alley was more deserted than Diagon Alley, and the few shoppers out on the streets moved purposefully to their destinations, their heads slightly bowed as though wishing to avoid eye contact.

Keeping an eye out for a glimpse of platinum hair through one of the dingy storefronts, Hermione made her way to Borgin and Burkes, the dark artifacts shop that Harry had observed Malfoy in a few times in years past.

The shop, like most on the street, appeared closed. If it weren't for the time-worn sign peeking through the grimy glass of the front door, announcing that they were open, Hermione might not have attempted to enter. As it was, she pushed the door open carefully, on guard as she entered the store.

It appeared deserted, far fewer items on display than she had expected, the dust under her feet muffling her steps as she approached the counter at the back of the store.

"Hello?" she called out hesitantly, resting her hand on the counter as she peered around the shop. She gasped and immediately drew her hand back as something grabbed at it. Eyes wide, she watched as something scuttled away, its spider-like movements carrying it off of the counter and out of her sight.

"Pick-pocket," a voice announced from behind her. "Very useful. A little tame for my taste. I once had in my possession a hand that would rob a person most skillfully, and then choke the very life out of them." A harsh, wheezy laugh followed this explanation and Hermione, delayed by the surprise of the item and then the voice, turned quickly.

The man standing behind her was shorter than her by a fair few inches, his balding head glinting in the bit of light given off by the dusty overhead lamps. He was stooped, his robes dirty, and an insane glint lurked in his eyes.

"I'm glad to see you, dear," he continued. "Business has been very bad, you see. Very bad. Since you and your little friends had to go and…" He trailed off, the halting speech stopping as he surveyed her. "But that's history isn't it, now? Is there something I can help you with?"

This man made Hermione nervous. He seemed a bit off his rocker, as though he himself wasn't quite sure exactly what he was supposed to be talking about.

"I'm looking for Draco Malfoy," she said quietly. "I know he used to frequent here-"

"Yes, you came in once snooping around, trying to find out what he was up to," the man said knowingly. Hermione gaped. Surely this could not be the same man. The years had not treated him kindly. "Still on that?"

"No, no, I need to speak to him," Hermione said, greatly unnerved.

"He doesn't come here much anymore," the man said, stepping closer to Hermione. She took a step back, her lower back hitting the counter and reminding her that she was cornered. "No, I would say that I haven't had the pleasure of his patronage in a good three years, or so." He stepped even closer, now uncomfortably invading Hermione's personal space. "Perhaps there's something I can help you with?"

His sour breath ghosted over her face and Hermione fought the urge to gag.

"No, that's fine, I'll just inquire elsewhere," she said, trying to act nonchalant as she slipped her hand into her pocket, gripping her wand.

"You shouldn't go poking around these parts. It's dangerous for your kind here," the man warned, but Hermione got the distinct feeling he wasn't speaking only of the other shop keeps.

"Enough, Borgin," a more familiar voice commanded and Hermione saw a light sweat break out across the man's brow.

Hermione made herself focus past the man who was in her immediate field of vision and saw none other than Draco Malfoy, his wand drawn and pressed into Borgin's neck. She let out a breath that she hadn't known she had been holding as Borgin was pulled roughly from her.

"Do you have business here, Granger?" Malfoy asked, not taking his wand off of Borgin.

"I was looking for you," she said quietly.

"Me," Malfoy repeated, a note of amusement in his voice. "Here? Well, you really don't think very highly of me, do you?"

"It was the only place I could think of," Hermione mumbled. "I need to speak with you."

"Not here," Malfoy said after a moment's consideration. He jerked his head towards the door and Hermione took that as her cue to leave the shop. Malfoy followed her, stepping carefully backwards so as to keep an eye on Borgin, not pocketing his wand again until they were both back out on the street. "What possessed you to look there, of all places?" he asked, still sounding amused.

"I know you and your father used to do business there," Hermione said defensively, still a bit shaken from her encounter.

"Yes, but I distinctly remember specifying that I had legitimate business today," Malfoy said. "Not exactly the sort of thing Borgin and Burkes specialize in."

They walked in silence for a moment back towards Diagon Alley, neither speaking again until they were in the much more lively street.

"So this business you have with me," Malfoy said. "I assume it's about the census, as that's about all you would have had time for since I last saw you."

Hermione nodded, casting her eyes furtively around the crowds of shoppers.

"Well, what is it, then? And try to make it quick. I'm late for an appointment as it is," Malfoy prompted. Hermione exhaled, trying to calm her nerves at the prospect of admitting what she had done.

"Not in public," she finally said. If Malfoy became angry and started yelling about what had happened, she didn't need for all of the wizarding community to learn of her lie. "Could we meet up in private when your business is done?"

Malfoy smirked at her, clearly amused.

"I see," he said knowingly. "You want to get me alone, do you?"

"Malfoy!" she hissed, embarrassed.

"Oh, calm down, Granger," he said, sighing as he started searching through his pockets, finally producing a white, unmarked business card. "I should be done around three o'clock. This will bring you to the manor at that time."

"The manor?" Hermione asked, her breath catching in her throat. Everything in her body was screaming what a bad idea it would be for her to go there.

"Problem, Granger?" Malfoy asked, raising an eyebrow. She swallowed hard.

"No, no problem," she whispered.

"Good. Then at three, place your wand to the card and say '_tripudio_'," he explained. Hermione nodded mutely. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must be off."

Hermione nodded again and then Malfoy was gone. She let out a shaky breath, her nerves mounting.

/

Draco pushed open the paint-peeled door of the Knockturn Alley shop, stepping into the smoky room and waiting a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. When he could finally make out detail amongst the dark, softly moving figures, he spotted the shop's proprietress, Ishya Mishra, seated at a small table in the back corner with Blaise Zabini. Draco rolled his eyes. He should've guessed Blaise would be in a place like this in the middle of the day.

He approached the two, Ishya finally taking notice of him and scooting over a bit on the bench to allow him room to sit down.

"Hello, Draco dear," Ishya purred, placing her hand on his shoulder and kissing his cheek lightly. The golden bangles stacked on her arms clinked merrily as her hand withdrew and she picked up the mouthpiece of a tall, ornate hookah placed on the table between the three of them.

"You're late," Blaise observed as Ishya took a deep pull from the hookah, holding the sweet flavoured smoke in her lungs for a long moment.

"I don't know what business it is of yours," Draco said, not blinking as Ishya exhaled and momentarily engulfed the three in thick, fragrant smoke. Should you even be here? I know your wife has forbidden it."

"Forbidden," Blaise snorted, as if to show how little he thought of her commands. As though to punctuate her point, one of Ishya's girls sauntered by, her flowing sheer sari showing an obscene amount of skin for what it was. Really, most people from India would probably have Ishya stoned to death or something if they saw this, Draco mused.

"Besides, that unfortunate little detail is made irrelevant by the fact that I hate my wife," Blaise continued, his eyes following the girl.

"Pansy's not that bad," Draco said. Blaise narrowed his eyes, returning his attention to Draco.

"She's a bloody nightmare," he said. "If she didn't have my son, I would have left her long ago. Actually, if she didn't have my son, I probably would never have married her."

This was true enough. Draco knew, unlike most in the wizarding community, that Zane had not been premature as Pansy liked to claim, but that Pansy had in fact been two months pregnant when she and Blaise eloped. Had they been more careful at the graduation party, Blaise probably never would have seen Pansy after they left Hogwarts.

"I apologize for keeping you waiting," Draco said, turning his attention back to Ishya. "I ran into unexpected complications on the way here."

"Enough of that, now," Ishya dismissed in in her throaty tones. "I assume you have something for me, Draco?"

"As promised," Draco answered, pulling six vials from his pocket and laying them on the table before the woman. Ishya picked one up, holding it up to the dim light of the lamp over their table, and shook it slightly. The light filtered through the perfectly clear powder. Seemingly satisfied with its appearance, she uncorked the vial and shook a small amount into her palm. Wetting her pinky finger, she pressed the pad into the powder and then to her tongue, letting her eyes fall shut in a apparent bliss.

"Wonderful quality, Draco," she purred, sidling closer to him. Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It wasn't as though she could help her reaction. Ishya's shop specialized in shisha cut with a powerful aphrodisiac, along with top-quality "personal" services - the preferred term of Ishya's girls for their whoring. "Is it the same formula?"

Draco nodded. He had developed the formula himself specifically for Ishya's shop. She paid top dollar in exchange for him agreeing not to mass-market it. It was stronger than anything found on the market currently, and didn't require a specific target like most aphrodisiac spells or potions. The only drawback was that it was highly addictive. This was good for Ishya's business, but not so much for Draco's. Addictive substances had to be reviewed and approved by the Ministry, in particular by certain people who were not to fond of Draco, or of Malfoy Industries in general, for that matter.

Ishya took a coin purse from her robes and set it down, pushing it towards Draco. It was quite a bit more than usual, given that it had been a rush order and most of the ingredients were rare this time of year, being out of season.

"Pleasure doing business with you, love," he whispered in her ear, kissing her cheek before disentangling himself gently from her. He couldn't find it in himself to be mean to her when she latched on to him, given that he had made the substance that caused it.

"That should hold you until your next scheduled order?" Draco asked, standing and pocketing the pay. Ishya nodded. "Good. I'll see you in a few weeks then." He turned towards the door. "Blaise, go home!" he added over his shoulder for good measure.

Once outside of the shop, Draco glanced around, allowing his eyes to adjust to the bright light. Well, bright in comparison to Ishya's shop, really. Knockturn Alley itself always appeared a bit… dim and dingy, really.

He turned, heading back towards Diagon Alley to refresh his ingredients at the apothecary, and then deposit the profits into his vault at Gringott's. He had a few more things to attend to, but he was having trouble focusing on them, wondering what Granger could possibly have to discuss with him.

/

At three o'clock, Hermione picked up the card Malfoy had given her, hoping that she could muster up the nerve to follow through, despite her nerves. She couldn't stop the flashes that kept going through her mind of what had transpired the last time she was in Malfoy Manor, and truth be told, she wasn't really sure she would be able to stand it. She knew, of course, that Voldemort and the rest of the Death Eaters wouldn't be there, and that it probably wouldn't seem anything like it had the last time she was there, but still she couldn't stop the panic.

Why did they have to meet at the manor, anyway? Draco had been in town, and they could have just as easily met at the Leaky Cauldron, or somewhere in muggle London where they wouldn't likely be overheard by anyone in the wizarding community. She nearly laughed at that idea as soon as it occurred. She couldn't imagine Malfoy anywhere in muggle London. And even if they weren't overheard by wizards, the conversation would seem very strange if overheard by muggles.

She checked her watch. Ten minutes after. She had to do it. She had agreed to meet Harry and Ginny at their house at five, and she had to talk to Malfoy before then. Her gut twisted and she prayed she wasn't going to be sick.

She gripped her wand tightly, drawing in a deep breath as she looked at the card. It was now or never.

"Tripudio," she muttered, pressing the tip of her wand to the card before she could lose her nerve. She felt a sharp tug around her stomach, and then the world around her warped as she seemed to jump through space. Before she knew it, she was standing on the front porch of Malfoy Manor, her wand still pressed to the card, her mouth agape in surprise.

The card was a portkey or sorts. Of course. She would've realized that if she hadn't been so worried about going to the Manor.

She raised her hand to knock at the heavy oak door, freezing for a moment. She could still leave. She wasn't sure if the card worked both ways, but she was confident she could at least apparate once out of the wards.

Before she could chicken out, the door swung open to show Malfoy, looking amused at the site of her. She realized a second too late that her hand was still raised to knock on the door, and let it fall to her side, feeling foolish.

"Planning on having this discussion on the porch, Granger?" Malfoy asked. Hermione's stomach turned. Could they? That might be better. She had conquered the porch, after all. The inside, however, was a whole other story. "Come in," Malfoy said before she could voice any of this.

She reluctantly stepped inside, sucking in a breath as though expecting to be hit with the Cruciatus curse the second she stepped through the door. Even though she knew it had been an unrealistic expectation, she still felt a bit more at ease when it didn't happen.

She followed Malfoy further into the house, down a long corridor and through a door on the left. She saw, when she entered, that it was a study of sorts, with a large fireplace and many shelves of ornately bound books. A large oak desk was situated along the back wall, and a few high-backed black leather armchairs were set in front of the desk. A matching couch was by the fireplace, with an oak coffee table in front of it.

"Have a seat," Malfoy said, motioning to no seat in particular. Hermione hesitated for a moment before deciding on the couch, mainly because it was closest to the door. Draco looked at her questioningly for a moment before sitting at the other end of the couch, looking at her expectantly. "So what did you want to discuss?"

"Well," Hermione started, taking slow, steadying breaths. "At the census today, I did something… stupid."

"You?" Malfoy asked in mock surprise. "I can hardly believe it."

"Could you please act civil? I feel bad enough," Hermione groaned. She wondered how he would react when he knew. Would he laugh at her? Would he be angry? Would he help her, somehow? Would he make her handle it on her own; admit that she had lied?

"I apologize. Go on," Malfoy said, the smirk disappearing from his face.

"Well, you know they ask your marital status, right?" she started. Malfoy nodded. "I got a memo from Harry right before I went in, telling me to lie about that." She handed him the note for good measure. He opened it and skimmed over it quickly.

"So," he said after he had read it and folded it back, "I can probably guess, but just for the hell of it, why don't you tell me what this has to do with me?"

"They wanted to know if I was dating anyone seriously, because my address is in the muggle world," she continued. "If Harry's right, I could've gotten in a lot of trouble if they thought I was dating a muggle, and I had to give them a specific name and I'm really, really sorry but yours just kind of… came out."

This statement was followed by the loudest silence Hermione thought she had ever heard. Malfoy's eyes narrowed.

"And I swear, that was going to be it, and I wasn't going to let it go on, I was going to fix it somehow, but then they were talking about a gala tomorrow and how they assumed I would be there, and I could tell they didn't believe me, and I really didn't want them to think I was dating a muggle because if our suspicions are correct, they might have taken my wand!" she explained all in one breath.

Malfoy remained quiet for another moment, staring into the fireplace. Hermione felt like her heart was going to jump out of her chest. He looked angry.

"Well," Malfoy said quietly, his voice hard. "That _is_ a mighty tough situation you've put yourself in. I suppose you want my help?"

"Just for a little while. Just… like, at the gala, we could 'break up' or something," Hermione offered desperately.

"That won't work, if your suspicions are correct," Malfoy said. "It will seem too convenient."

"Well, then maybe-" Hermione started, but Malfoy interrupted her.

"Why my name?"

"What?" Hermione asked, caught off guard.

"What were you doing using _my _name? What was your purpose?"

"I…" she started, at a loss. She hadn't consciously chosen him for any reason. "I guess because I talked to you this morning…"

"Why not one of your friends?" he asked suspiciously

"I thought about that," Hermione said quickly. "But you know, Harry's married to Ginny, and Ron's engagement was just in the paper, and Neville's married to Luna… You were the first man I thought of that wasn't already married."

"Is that all?" he asked, turning to look at her for the first time since she had started her story. "That's the only reason?"

"What other reason would there be?" Hermione asked, taken aback. "It's certainly not because of our natural chemistry."

Malfoy's face slowly relaxed. Hermione shifted uncomfortably, waiting for him to say something. This wasn't going as badly as she had expected. Of course, she had half expected to be dead by this point.

"So what do you think we should do?" he asked.

"You're going to help me?" Hermione asked, scarcely daring to believe it.

"It's going to be a bit more like… mutual help," Malfoy said, a small smile gracing his features.

"I'm not sleeping with you!" Hermione insisted.

"Please, Granger, like you'd get _that_ lucky," he scoffed. "No, as I recall, you're pretty good at potions, right?"

"Fairly," she said. It wasn't her strongest subject in school, but she wasn't really bad at anything in school, either. Except flying, that is.

"Well, I'll pretend we're involved - including events such as tomorrow's gala. In return, I have a formula I'm trying to perfect for my work, and you will help me," Malfoy said. "Deal."

"Deal, Malfoy," Hermione said, instantly relieved.

"Draco," Malfoy said. Hermione looked at him quizzically. "If we're going to be dating, you should call me Draco, don't you think… Hermione?"

She nodded, surprised at the jolt that ran up her spine when he used her given name.

/

**AN**: Well, was it everything you were hoping for and more? No? I understand it's somewhat lacking. I am planning on rewriting it. But I made a deal with you readers, and I had to hold up my end. There will be a note before the next chapter once I upload the rewrite. The general idea will remain the same, though.

So, thoughts, questions? I'd love to hear from you! If the feedback stays strong, I'll put up the next chapter by Sunday morning! :D

Those of you with this story on alert, please note that starting next chapter, the title of this story will be changing to "The Agreement". It's cliché, I know, but it's better than "Tagging", yes? XD So don't ignore the update, now! :D

**EDIT: This chapter has been rewritten. Please let me know what you thought of it! :D**


	6. Fire

**The Agreement  
**Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Six**: Fire

**AN**: Thanks to everyone who read the last chapter (both times) and added it to their alerts and faves! For those of you who don't know, chapter five was rewritten and reposted. You may want to check and see if you're up to date before continuing with this chapter!

Special thanks to **HPfan29**, **Guisoris**, **-typing-pictures-**, **Hans153**, **FlapperGirl**, **Lissie1994**, **PadfootObsessed329**, **IGOTEAMEDWARD**, **HarryPotterLover1426**, **drooling**, **crazykitties03**, **keishasalder, 4SnowWolf**, and **ApterousAngel** for reviewing the last chapter! :D Love to you all!

As per request by **HPfan29**, I am going to jump back a bit in the beginning of this chapter to show Draco's POV - as much as I can in third person - of the last part of chapter five. Hope you enjoy it! :D

/

Draco turned to look at the clock over the fireplace after he stepped through the Floo into the sitting room of Malfoy Manor. It was three o'clock, and Granger should be turning up at any minute. As the day had gone on, he had grown more anxious about hearing what she had to tell him. It must be important, if she had ventured into Diagon Alley to find him, but he couldn't imagine what he could possibly have to do with her registration.

She had asked him if they asked anything strange during his, but he had been honest when he told her that they hadn't. Maybe they had asked her something about him? Was that it? A lot of people _had _seen them argue at the café just a few days ago. Maybe it was about that?

But what interest would the Ministry have in whether they had had lunch together, or even if they had argued? A great war hero and an accused Death Eater… an argument couldn't seem that strange, could it?

He glanced at the clock again. Five after. She was late. Of course, he couldn't expect someone of such ill-breeding to be entirely punctual. She should work on that. But then, she had hardly ever been late for a class in Hogwarts, that he had known of, save a few in their third year, perhaps. But everyone knew that the know-it-all had overloaded her schedule that year.

He smirked inwardly. If she had worked herself near to death that year, it would serve her right. She had always been infuriating, naturally grasping ideas that even full-blooded wizards such as himself had had to work to perfect… Even in Potions, which had always been his strong suit, he had to work twice as hard just to keep a bit ahead of her in the practical, and there was no hope in the textbook side of things.

He felt the wards weaken momentarily and glanced at the clock. She was here, and only ten minutes late. He stayed where he was, waiting for the knock on the door, but grew curious when it never came.

He swept out into the main hall, stopping in front of the bewitched door. It was in fact Granger, looking slightly ill, her closed fist raised as though about to knock, but frozen in place. Draco frowned, wondering for a second if someone had hit her with a petrifying charm, but then nearly burst out laughing when he realized she was shaking.

She was _scared _to knock. He supposed he should have expected that, given what had happened to her last time she was here, but really, did she think he had Voldemort himself hidden away in here, waiting to attack her or something? For heaven's sake, she was the one who had insisted on meeting in private, it wasn't as though he had lured her here.

He opened the door, unable to stop the slight chuckle that came over him at her horrified face. Her hand was still raised, though she didn't seem to notice it. After a moment she finally let it drop, a look of embarrassment replacing the fear.

"Planning on having this discussion on the porch, Granger?" Draco asked. For a moment Granger appeared to consider it. "Come in," he said, not wanting to wait out her internal debate.

He stepped aside to let her enter, and she stepped over the threshold slowly, seeming to steel herself for the worst. He heard her exhale slowly. Was she really that uneasy here?

Deciding not to comment, Draco instead turned and silently led her down the hall to his father's study. It wasn't somewhere he often conducted any sort of important business, but given that Granger had never been there, he thought it might be the most calming place for her to be.

"Have a seat," he said, motioning into the room. Granger hesitated for a moment before approaching the couch cautiously and sitting on the very edge of the end closest to the door. Draco thought it was strange that she would pick a spot where they would have to sit together, rather than the armchairs by the desk, but again didn't comment, sitting at the other end of the couch. "So what did you want to discuss?" he asked after a few moments had passed and she still hadn't said anything.

"Well," Granger started slowly, seeming to pick her words carefully. "At the census today, I did something… stupid."

"You?" Draco asked in mock surprise. "I can hardly believe it." He wasn't mocking her because she wasn't smart, but as a third of the Golden Trio, she had been known to get herself into some pretty ridiculous situations.

"Could you please act civil? I feel bad enough," Hermione groaned, clearly misunderstanding him. He didn't clarify, wanting her to just get on with it.

"I apologize. Go on," Draco said, adopting a more serious attitude. The situation seemed to require it.

"Well, you know they ask your marital status, right?" she started. Draco nodded. "I got a memo from Harry right before I went in, telling me to lie about that." She handed him the note and he opened it, wondering exactly what reason Potter could have for telling her to do that. The note didn't say much by way of reason, other than that they would 'discuss it later'. He refolded the note, wondering vaguely what this could have to do with him, and then it all clicked. He knew what stupid thing she had done.

"So," he said to buy time to mull over this fact in his head. "I can probably guess, but just for the hell of it, why don't you tell me what this has to do with me?"

"They wanted to know if I was dating anyone seriously, because my address is in the muggle world," she continued. "If Harry's right, I could've gotten in a lot of trouble if they thought I was dating a muggle, and I had to give them a specific name and I'm really, really sorry but yours just kind of… came out."

Draco remained silent, considering this. He wasn't mad at Granger… Yet. It seemed that she had just been acting blindly on Potter's orders, which was just _so _Golden Trio that he could gag. But then, Potter hadn't said for her to name Draco.

Or at least, not in the letter, he realized. What if the letter was just to look like it had been a coincidence?

"And I swear, that was going to be it, and I wasn't going to let it go on, I was going to fix it somehow, but then they were talking about a gala tomorrow and how they assumed I would be there, and I could tell they didn't believe me, and I really didn't want them to think I was dating a muggle because if our suspicions are correct, they might have taken my wand!" Granger rambled on. Draco was hardly listening to her.

Potter had been breathing down his neck for the past few years because of his parents, and Draco's insistence that punishments for crimes in the war remained fair and fitting, but in the last months it had gotten worse. Someone had let slip to Potter about the powder Draco was selling to Ishya, and since then Potter had been trying to prove that Draco was illegally selling an addictive substance. It was costing Draco a fortune to reformulate the powder, and a lot of trouble to continue dodging Potter.

"Well," Draco finally said, his voice hard as he considered the possible implications of this situation. "That _is_ a mighty tough situation you've put yourself in. I suppose you want my help?"

"Just for a little while. Just… like, at the gala, we could 'break up' or something," Hermione offered desperately.

She was a good actress, Draco would give her that. She almost seemed sincere, as though Potter hadn't decided to use his recent contact with her as a chance to nose into his life and investigate his business. Well, she would have to work harder than that.

"That won't work, if your suspicions are correct," Draco said. "It will seem too convenient."

"Well, then maybe-" Granger started, her voice growing desperate, but Draco interrupted her. Enough of the games.

"Why my name?" he demanded.

"What?" she asked, caught off guard.

"What were you doing using _my _name? What was your purpose?" he snapped, annoyed at her innocent act. He wished she would just stop the bullshit and come clean so that he could inform her that it hadn't worked, and send her on her merry way.

"I…" she started. She sounded as though she was losing her nerve. Perhaps she was getting that he didn't believe a word of what she was saying. "I guess because I talked to you this morning…"

"Why not one of your friends?" Draco continued.

"I thought about that," Hermione said quickly. "But you know, Harry's married to Ginny, and Ron's engagement was just in the paper, and Neville's married to Luna… You were the first man I thought of that wasn't already married."

That part actually made sense. And assuming she was being honest with him - and that was quite the dangerous assumption in itself - he could understand how talking to him that morning would put him high on the mental list. Especially since they _had _discussed his relationship status.

"Is that all?" he asked, turning to look at her for the first time since she had started her story. She looked more panicked than when she had appeared at his door, and oddly desperate. Not really the look of someone trying to keep it cool. "That's the only reason?"

"What other reason would there be?" Granger asked, taken aback. "It's certainly not because of our natural chemistry."

Draco slowly relaxed. Maybe she was telling the truth. Of course she was telling the truth. Potter may be desperate enough to "bring justice to the world" or something to lie and cheat, but Granger had always been a Gryffindor, through and through. Holier-than-thou, perfect, little know-it-all…

"So what do you think we should do?" he asked.

"You're going to help me?" Granger asked, her eyes wide and disbelieving.

Draco supposed that either way, it would be best to help her. If she was telling the truth, then he supposed that he really should help her. After all, she hadn't meant any malice. And if she was poking around, well, she would see that he was reformulating and she would simply be carrying back to Potter that Draco was following the laws.

Actually, now that he thought of it… the little know-it-all might come in handy…

"It's going to be a bit more like… mutual help," Draco said, unable to stop himself from smiling at the idea.

"I'm not sleeping with you!" Granger interjected.

"Please, Granger, like you'd get _that_ lucky," he scoffed. It was actually kind of amusing. The formula would have to be tested, after all. If only she knew how much she would end up regretting that proclamation. "No, as I recall, you're pretty good at potions, right?"

"Fairly," she conceded.

"Well, I'll pretend we're involved - including events such as tomorrow's gala. In return, I have a formula I'm trying to perfect for my work, and you will help me," Draco offered. "Deal?"

"Deal, Malfoy," Hermione said, relief evident on her face. She had no idea what she was getting herself into.

"Draco," he corrected her. Granger looked at him quizzically. "If we're going to be dating, you should call me Draco, don't you think… Hermione?" he explained, letting his voice drop a bit.

He was surprised to see her tremble slightly for a moment.

This could be interesting.

/

"You did _what_?" Ginny asked, breaking the silence that had fallen over the kitchen after Hermione finished her story.

"I told you, I couldn't think of anything else!" Hermione groaned, resting her head on her folded arms. "I got the memo right before they called me in, and everyone I thought of was already married!"

"Well, we have to find some way out of this!" Ginny insisted.

"I don't know," Harry said finally.

"What? Harry-"

"No, think about it," Harry said. Hermione raised her head again to stare at him incredulously. "I mean, you've already claimed to be dating him, and they won't be able to deny it when they see you two tomorrow night. And he agreed to help you, so you're relatively safe on that front, right?"

"But it's _Malfoy_!" Ginny argued.

"Yeah, but it's the best we can do now," Harry reasoned. "And it might be good that it's Malfoy. If he's willing to date Hermione-"

"Oh, thanks Harry," Hermione scoffed miserably. "Way to make me feel better."

"I mean considering that it's Malfoy, 'Mione," Harry clarified. "We've been trying to uncover some things about Malfoy Industries, and trying to find Lucius and Narcissa. If Hermione gets close to him-"

"We're not going to put Hermione in danger for your job!" Ginny balked.

"I didn't mean that. I just meant that it could help keep Hermione safe, and help us find out what some important stuff," Harry said.

"Keep Hermione safe? With Malfoy?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, Malfoy himself hasn't really been a problem since the war. I really think that part will be fine. And that way she can be here while we're working on figuring out for sure what Dekeyrel is up to without arousing suspicion, and she gets to keep her magic in case we have to fight it. It just might be the best thing for now."

"Can we stop talking about Hermione like she's not here?" Hermione groaned, putting her head back down.

"Sorry," Ginny said sheepishly. Hermione sighed.

"So do you want to tell me why I had to say I was seeing someone?" she asked.

"Well, I was talking to Dean this morning," Ginny said. "And he was telling me about how his cousin, Richard, had moved to Wales during the war. So anyway, he showed up for the registration, and when they found out that he had moved to a muggle community and wasn't seeing a witch, they labeled him as high-risk and took his wand before sending him back to Whales!"

"Apparently it doesn't matter what your blood or marital status is if you're living in the muggle world, so I thought you'd have a better chance if you told them that you were with someone in the wizarding world," Harry explained. "I never thought you'd pick _Malfoy_, though."

"That's ridiculous!" Hermione exclaimed. Harry nodded.

"It's not the most organized of evil plots I've ever seen, that's for certain," Harry said. "It's more… not right than dangerous."

"Why is he agreeing to help you, anyway?" Ginny asked suspiciously.

"Who?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Malfoy!"

"Oh," Hermione said. Of course Ginny would still be on that. "He says he needs my help to reformulate some potion of his. It's kind of a trade." She checked her watch before standing up and pushing her chair back under the table. "Actually, he wants me to come by so he can explain it to me. I just stopped by to fill you guys in."

"Alright, Hermione," Harry said. Ginny looked as though she was about to say something about him accepting it so quickly. "_What_? What exactly can we do better at this exact moment in time, Ginny? I'd love to hear it."

Ginny gritted her teeth and stayed quiet.

"We'll see you at the gala tomorrow, Hermione. For now just go on with the plan as it is right now, and keep us updated on what's going on. We'll let you know if we learn anything," Harry said, standing as well to give her a quick hug goodbye.

/

Hermione soon found herself once more in front of Malfoy Manor, her heart beating out of control. Despite the fact that nothing bad had happened when she had visited earlier that day, she couldn't completely stop the feeling the place gave her. She felt as though she were purposefully walking into the belly of the beast.

Once more, before she could knock, the door flew open. It was not Malfoy standing there, however, and Hermione nearly turned and ran at the sight of Blaise Zabini leering at her from over the threshold.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, a grin spreading over his face. "I thought Draco was having me on!"

Hermione blinked at him, confused, as he stood aside to let her come inside, still staring at her with evident interest.

"You know," he said, following her down the hall to the study, "I've seen a lot of girls use some pretty amusing tactics to get to Draco, but this is by far one of the funniest I've ever heard!"

"It's not funny, Zabini," Hermione snapped, turning to face him once she had reached the study door. "And I'm not trying to 'get to Draco'!"

"Sure," Blaise drawled skeptically. Hermione shook her head, deciding that he didn't really care what Blaise thought. She opened the door and strode into the office, surprised to see that Draco wasn't there.

"Isn't he home?" she asked, turning back to Blaise.

"Well, yeah, he's out in the back playing with Zane," he answered as if he couldn't imagine why she would ask. Hermione stared at him incredulously for a moment before motioning for him to lead the way.

"Who's Zane?" she asked as they moved back into the corridor.

"My son," Blaise answered.

"You have a son?" Hermione asked. "I didn't know that."

"Five years old next month," Blaise answered, a note of pride in his voice. "A lot has happened in the years since you ran off to live amongst the muggles, I guess."

Hermione was quiet as Blaise led her through the sitting room off of the entry hall and through to another room, the purpose of which Hermione could not quite identify. Hermione got the feeling that there would be many rooms like it in a place the size of the manor. Beyond that was the kitchen, which included a set of large double doors. Blaise led her through these, and Hermione found herself in one of the most perfectly groomed yards she had ever seen. A few gardens of late-blooming roses and lilies framed the grassy area, pruned clean of any wilting or dead blooms, and a large weeping willow stood in the far corner, setting the boundaries of the garden apart from the rest of the estate.

But the garden, beautiful as it was, was not the most amazing thing she saw once through the doors. A small boy with Blaise's dark features was dressed up as medieval knight, complete with a shield and toy sword. Zane, Hermione figured, was squaring off against Draco, who was down on all fours, growling at the boy. Hermione watched as the boy raised his sword, letting out a loud battle cry, and brought his plastic blade down in a great arc onto Draco's shoulder. Draco let out a roar and reared back, his expression a perfect pantomime of agony, before he fell over. Zane let out another fierce cry and began beating him with his sword.

Hermione couldn't help it; she started laughing so hard that she had to double over, grasping the door frame for support, peals of laughter ripping from her as she shook. Her eyes were burning with tears of mirth and her sides ached before she had regained control of herself. When she finally opened her eyes, she was face-to-face with the "sharp" end of Zane's sword.

"Surrender, vile tempess!" he shouted.

"It's 'temptress'," Draco hissed from where he now stood against the porch railing.

"Temptress!" Zane shouted, swinging his sword. Hermione stared at him blankly before looking back to Draco.

"What am I supposed to do?" she asked, unsure of herself.

"Surrender," he said as though this were the most obvious answer in the world.

"Or fight to the death," Blaise added thoughtfully. Zane let out an exasperated sigh and lowered his sword, trudging back to Draco.

"She's no fun," he complained.

"No, well, she never is," Draco agreed, ruffling the boy's hair. Hermione glared at him. "Unfortunately, I have to go be boring with her for awhile. Torture your dad some, yeah?" Zane nodded happily and Blaise glowered as Draco laughed, moving towards the house.

"Come on," Draco said to Hermione, leading the way inside. "I never would have pictured you being so bad with kids," he said once the door was shut behind them. Hermione glowered at his back as he led the way back through the manor.

"And I never thought you'd be so _ridiculously_ good with them," she countered, making sure to stress the ridiculous part.

"Well, I was playing quite the fitting role," Draco said with a shrug.

"Dying dog?" Hermione guessed.

"That hurt, Hermione," Draco said and Hermione could have sworn he put emphasis on her name. "I'll have you know I was a great and terrifying dragon."

"Please, Norbert was more intimidating," Hermione scoffed.

"Norbert?"

"Never mind."

Draco stopped at a door off of what Hermione knew was the dining room.

"We'll be working in the dungeons," he said as he opened the door. Hermione's heart seemed to jump into her throat. She had never been in the dungeons, but Harry had told her enough about the Manor's to make her never want to set foot in there. "Is that a problem?" Draco asked, noticing her hesitation.

"Why does it have to be the dungeons? Surely there are plenty of rooms available with just yourself living here," Hermione said, annoyed at the slightly pleading quality that her voice had adopted. Draco sighed.

"Look, I can't change what happened down there during the war, but there's a reason our potions classes took place in Hogwarts' dungeons. Most potions cannot be exposed to light until they're done, and need to be cool once they stabilize. So to answer your question, yes, it has to be the dungeons," he explained. Hermione knew all of that, of course, but it didn't soothe her any. "It's not like we're going to be working in the cells," Draco added.

"Oh, that helps," Hermione said sarcastically.

"Fine," Draco said, snapping the door shut sharply. "The deal's off, then. I suggest you go on your way."

What? Hermione's mind raced. She couldn't back out now. She was too far into this mess. To make the entire plan so far work, and figure out anything else, she had to stop Dekeyrel from finding out she had lied and casting her out into the muggle world. She had already faced her fears with the rest of the manor, and she had never been in the dungeons herself. She could do this.

Right?

"Gods, Malfoy, you're annoying," she growled, wrenching the door open and starting down the stone steps.

"It's Draco, remember?" he chuckled as he followed her down. Torches along the wall lit and extinguished themselves as they passed, lighting only the immediate area that they were in.

"It's Malfoy when you've ticked me off," she snapped, glancing back at him as she continued down the stairs. The next second she became abruptly aware that there was nothing under her foot, and she was falling. She let out a loud shriek and flailed to regain her balance.

A strong hand closed around her forearm, yanking her back. She collided into Draco, falling backwards instead. She might have knocked them both over if he hadn't been expecting it.

"Is it Draco now?" he muttered, his breath warm on her ear. She was sure he could feel her heart thudding against his own chest, and she wasn't entirely sure that it was strictly due to her near fall. "Mind your step," he said before letting go of her arm and stepping past her, taking the sharp right that she had missed as the stairs curved.

Hermione only had a second to regain her senses before the torch nearest her went out and she had to catch up to Draco.

The ground finally leveled out after a few more flights and torches all around the vast room ignited. It was much the way Hermione had imagined it, although with its current décor it really did remind her a lot of Snape's dungeon classroom.

"So what exactly is this potion you're working on?" Hermione asked, sifting through the stack of notes on the table closest to her. She couldn't easily make sense of them. It seemed Draco was in fact a fairly disorganized person, for someone working in such a 'subtle science and exact art', as Snape had called it on their first day.

"I don't plan to tell you just yet," Draco said simply.

"How am I supposed to help you if I don't know what the potion is supposed to be?" Hermione asked, taken aback.

"That would be a fair point, if you were going to be making it for market," Draco said. "However, that's not what I need help with. I assume you're at least a little familiar with potions regulations?" he asked.

"Just what Snape taught us," Hermione admitted. "Except for a few common draughts, I didn't have much use for them after I left school, so I don't know much about their marketing."

"Well, it's law that any potion in any form that causes even the mildest level of dependency must be tested and approved by the Ministry of Magic, including but not limited to the Auror department, the Department of Magical Maladies and Injuries, and the Department of Muggle Relations, as well as no fewer than three independent Healers," Draco explained. "Allow me to break that down a bit: Potter, a bunch of people who hate my family and me by association for all of the suffering during the war, and Arthur Weasley must approve my product for market. What do you think is the likelihood of that happening?"

"Pretty low," Hermione had to admit.

"Close. It's actually nonexistent," Draco said. "So, that leaves me with one other option, which is to make the formula completely non-addictive. That's where you come in."

"You need me to figure out how to get rid of its addictive qualities?" Hermione asked. Draco nodded.

"I've narrowed it down to three of the primary ingredients that could make it addictive," Draco said. "I need you to find out which ones can be replaced, and with what, without taking away from the effects."

He handed Hermione a sheet of parchment with a list of some twenty ingredients, and their quantities. She balked at some of the items.

"Draco, what exactly is this?" she asked, her eyes wide as she scanned the list again. "Frozen ashwinder eggs? Peppermint?"

"Too keep people from becoming to jittery, you know."

"Moonstone, sneezewort, crocodile heart?" Hermione continued. "And that's not even the half of it! Seriously, Draco, what is this?"

"All in good time," Draco said dismissively. "Now, these three are the ones I'm most worried about," he continued, motioning to three underlined ingredients at the bottom of the page. "We need to figure out which can be omitted or substituted, and what with, and still produce the same potion."

"Poppy?" Hermione read dully. "There's poppy in this? Well, of course it's addictive!"

"I'm aware, Hermione, we're here to fix that," Draco said slowly.

"Well, it depends on what you're using it for, but passion flower, reishi mushroom, and valerian root can all be used as substitutes for poppies," Hermione supplied begrudgingly.

"Say it's to relieve anxiety that may be caused by some of the other ingredients," Draco said. Hermione rolled her eyes. He really wasn't going to tell her what this potion did.

"Then I would recommend passion flower," Hermione said. "But it can also cause sleepiness… Is this a sleeping draught?"

"Nope," Draco said. "Maybe remove the peppermint, then." He scribbled out the ingredients on the list and then wrote in the new one and a rough quantity. "Right then, you get to work on this. I'm going to go send Blaise home."

"Why?" Hermione asked, surprised that he was just going to leave her down there to work on a potion she had no experience with.

"Because it's seven o'clock, and if he's not home soon, Pansy might show up here," Draco said, his tone suggesting just how unfortunate that occurrence would be. Hermione nodded, prodding the kindling under the cauldron that was already set up with her wand to start a fire before walking to the cupboard to find the ingredients she would need.

/

An hour later, and Draco still wasn't back. Hermione had already combined all of the ingredients and was gently stirring the cauldron. Draco could have at least left more detailed instructions, she fumed. She had no clear idea if the potion was turning out right or not.

As she thought of this, she gave the potion an extra-violent stir, upsetting the cauldron and sending the concoction sloshing over the sides. On instinct, she reached out to steady it, jerking her hands back when they came in contact with the hot pewter.

"Bloody-" she shouted, stifling her own yell as she stuck her fingers in her mouth, attempting to soothe the burn. Her tongue felt strangely heavy as she pressed it to her skin, but she took little notice of that. "Stupid cauldron! Stupid Malfoy!" she spat, tearing her hand from her lips.

She stomped over to the cabinet, hoping that Draco already had some burn salve prepared. She located the thick orange paste fairly quickly and applied it to her injured hand.

She waited, but the burn didn't stop. In fact, it seemed to be spreading throughout her body. Her heart began to race and her breathing quickened. She was on fire. It was too hot in the dungeons!

She tore at the clasp of her cloak around her neck, shrugging it off. Why had she been wearing a cloak in this heat? How had she not noticed it before? She couldn't think; she was disoriented, burning. She had to stop it. It was becoming hard to breathe. The muscles in her legs and stomach began to contract. Was she dying?

The sensations were strangely familiar, but in their intensity she couldn't place them. It was getting hotter. Too hot.

"Draco!" she panted, falling to her knees. She needed help. She needed to make it stop.

/

Draco paused on the stairs right as he was about to reach the dungeon where Hermione was working.

"Draco!" he heard her gasp, her breathing laboured, followed by a ragged sort of whimper. He rushed forward, taking the last four steps in one leap before bursting into the open space.

The cauldron she had been working at was still in place, the fire under it still lit, but Hermione was nowhere to be seen. He followed the sound of her harsh breaths around the table to find her crouched on the floor, her cloak lying feet away from her despite the cold air, a fine sheen of sweat clinging to her skin.

"Draco," she gasped again when she saw him, her eyes dark as they focused on him. "What's… I don't know what's happening."

Unfortunately, Draco did. This was the effect of the potion before it was boiled down for a week into the fine powder that he sold it as. She must have ingested it.

"Christ, Hermione, you know better than to take a potion you can't identify!" Draco admonished her as he crouched down, gripping her jaw and forcing her to look at him again. "Open your eyes!" he commanded.

He knew it was his fault. She probably would never have been tempted to do it if he had just told her what the potion was - but he had been too suspicious that she might still carry that information back to Potter.

She opened her eyes and Draco groaned when he saw just how large her pupils had become. He doubted if she was even still really conscious.

"I didn't…" she panted, gripping his arm tightly when he let go of her jaw. "Burn… I got burned… It's spreading." She clenched her teeth together hard, burying her face against his neck. He didn't think much of the gesture - his skin probably felt cool against hers, soothing the burn. "Make it stop," she forced out.

Draco wasn't sure what to do. The effects didn't go away on their own at this stage in the potion-making process. But he wasn't sure that he should really do what would have to be done, either. He shouldn't have left her alone to make the potion. He should've told her what it was.

But he hadn't. Now what was he supposed to do?

/

**AN**: I know the "evil" plot seems really, really lame right now. But I promise, it's going to get a lot darker before this is all over. Please stick with me! :D

As for the whole, "will post the chapter on Sunday" thing, that had been my original intention, but that was back when the chapter was going to be twice as long. As it is, it's already 6k words, which is quite long for me, so I figured I'd better stop it at a… good point. I still plan on posting a chapter Sunday, though. ;)

And now, time for your thoughts! I can't wait to hear them!


	7. Incineration

**The Agreement**  
Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Seven**: Incineration

**AN**: I was pleased - and amused at times, in a good way - at the response to the last chapter. I'm so glad that so many of you are enjoying this, as I'm having so much fun writing it! Having said that, this chapter treads on the border of dub-con. I personally do not see anything in this chapter as non-con, but some of you may feel differently, and so I feel the need to warn you all. Furthermore, let us all keep our ages secret and pretend we're good little 18+ adults, shall we? I don't like thinking that I'm writing smut for minors. ;)

I hope you enjoy the chapter! Thanks so much for reading, and special thanks to **starlight-x-A-x**, **ApterousAngel**, **crazykitties03**, **HPfan29**, **ValSilph**, **IGOTEAMEDWARD**, **Hans153**, **4SnowWolf**, **anon**, **SauerKirsche**, and **Guisoris** for reviewing the last chapter!

/

Draco's mind was racing. What was he supposed to do? Logically, he _knew_ what needed to be done. He could remember the first time he had tested the potion, before he learned it had to be boiled down. There was only one way to fix it. He had stayed in the same state Hermione was currently in for a week before he was finally "cured". But he didn't know if he could do it now. It seemed somehow wrong.

Hermione let out a low groan, turning her head so that the opposite side of her heated face was pressed against his neck. Why hadn't she been wearing gloves? She must be slipping after all of those years in the muggle world, he thought.

Being on the potion at that stage of production was hell, Draco knew. It was painful, and the sensations were so extreme that few people would probably identify what they were feeling as lust. What they would normally identify as warm, or overheated, became a torturous burning in every inch of their body. The natural contractions of muscles in the pelvic area became painful muscle spasms. Eventually the mind shut down as a defense, but that could only last so long. When Hermione finally regained full consciousness, it would be even worse.

She was suffering, and it was his fault. Even if she had been neglectful, so had he. He would have to take care of it.

/

Hermione was only dimly aware of the world around her, of the feeling of cool skin against her face and the steady pulse of the other person. She knew instinctually that it was Draco, but she couldn't make much more sense of it than that. Her vision was dark, although she knew her eyes were open, unseeing.

She felt Draco's hand under her chin, guiding her face up towards him, and a pair of soft lips pressed gently against her own and she let out a dry sob as the fire flared in her stomach. _It wasn't enough. _She was shocked at her own realization. Draco's kiss had increased the burning, but now she wanted nothing more than for the fire to consume her completely, to take her over and destroy everything.

She felt herself move, but it was as though something had taken over her body, puppetting her. Her arms came raised to wrap around Draco, her body moving forward to press against his as she pressed her lips harder to his. Her hand moved to allow her fingers to twist in his hair. Her sense of touch seemed magnified and she marveled at how silky his hair felt. The fire inside of her flared again and she pressed harder to him, her breath coming out in sharp pants.

Draco pulled away and the fire abruptly became unbearable. It was like it was an entirely different sort of burn when she made contact with Draco, and she had forgotten how agonizing it really was. She reached out for him blindly, trying desperately to make her voice work, but nothing came out except for a startled cry.

The next moment Draco's hand grasped her own and she was being pulled to her feet. He pulled her close once more, his hands moving to her waist as his mouth pressed against hers once more. His lips parted slightly and hers immediately followed suit, deepening the kiss.

She couldn't ever get close enough to him, she knew. She wanted to meld into him - become a part of him. His hands left her waist to run up her sides, ghosting over the sides of her breasts and around to the zipper of her robes.

His lips left hers, moving to feather kisses along her jaw and down her neck, igniting a path across her skin as he slid the zipper down and pushed her robes off, letting them hit the ground below. He moved away from her for a moment and she heard something else hit the ground and then he was back, his chest bare as he pressed against her. The flames engulfed her everywhere his skin touched her own and she cried out, not sure she could stand much more.

A voice in the back of her mind was screaming at her, asking what she was doing, didn't she know that was _Draco Malfoy_? She dismissed it quickly, focused on anything that may relieve the burning, or incinerate her - whichever way it would end.

She was being lifted, set on a ledge - the table, she realized. Draco was pressed between her legs, his hands on either side of her supporting his weight as he leaned in to kiss her once more. She groaned, rubbing against him, stoking the fire, reveling in the feeling of his own arousal pressing against her.

Her vision was beginning to clear just slightly. She could see his silhouette through the fog clouding her vision. Dark fog. Smoke? She wasn't sure. She could sense, rather than hear, him speaking to her, but she couldn't make sense of it.

/

"Hermione," Draco muttered, biting back a moan as she writhed against him. "Are you sure this is okay?"

He hoped she would say no, in a way. Everything about this seemed wrong. But while Draco Malfoy was a lot of things, he was not a rapist. If she said no, he could stop. If she consented… Well, even he knew he was too far gone if she consented.

He wasn't sure if she heard him or not, or registered his words, but she continued kissing him, running her hands over his quickly heating skin, rubbing tantalizingly against his most sensitive areas. He groaned as her hands came down and undid his pants, groping around for his cock. She had to want it, right? She wouldn't be doing this if she didn't consent, right?

He tried to ease his conscience with this thought as he stripped off his pants and underwear and, gritting his teeth to maintain control, entered her in one swift movement.

_Fuck, tight. Tight. Hot. Tight. _Draco held Hermione's hips still as she cried out, trying to move against him. If he came that quickly, it wouldn't help her any. She had to finish to satisfy the effects of the potion.

"Draco," she moaned, her muscles contracting even tighter around him. God, this was going to be difficult. He took a steadying breath before slowly sliding out of her to the head and then slamming back in. Hermione cried out again, her hands forming claws against his shoulder blades, her nails digging into his skin. He groaned, secretly thankful for the biting pain to distract him.

He set a steady pace, listening to the sounds Hermione was making, making sure to learn what she liked, determined to bring her to the edge quickly. She bucked against him, her screams muffled as she pressed her mouth to his shoulder, her legs wrapping tightly around his hips.

It wasn't long before she was visibly tensing, moving harder against him, her screams escalating. Draco moved one hand and slid it between them, reaching down to rub her clit, feeling himself getting closer as she contracted around him.

/

It was happening. Hermione was incinerating. She cried out in relief, welcoming the flames as she burned impossibly hotter. She shattered, like overheated glass. Distantly, she heard Draco cry out and wondered if he was breaking, too.

She was in pieces, scattered on the tabletop. It was over. Finally, over.

/

Draco took a second to regain his composure before moving. He felt sick to his stomach. He wasn't sure if Hermione would fully remember what happened when she woke up, or what the experience had been like for her under the potion's influence.

He decided he wouldn't tell her. If she remembered it, and mentioned it, he wouldn't deny it, but if she didn't it might embarrass her to find out. It had been necessary, and that was the only reason it had happened. He didn't need it to make things awkward for the two of them.

But he would worry about that in the morning, he decided. It was late, and he was completely drained. He picked up Hermione and made his way slowly up the stairs out of the dungeons. He would put her in one of the guest rooms near his, so that she wouldn't freak out when she woke up in a strange room, too far away for him to hear her.

When he finally collapsed into bed, he found that no matter how tired he was, he couldn't get to sleep. Five years ago, he never would have believed that guilt would be eating away at him now because he had shagged Granger. Hell, he wouldn't have believed five years ago that he would shag Granger in the first place.

What a mess.

/

Draco heard Hermione moving around in the early hours of the morning and listened closely as she left her room and made her way down to the first floor. He waited for the wards to weaken as she left, or to hear the heavy front door open and close, but it never happened.

He got out of bed slowly, still exhausted, and put on a fresh pair of pants and a shirt before leaving his room, going off in search of her.

He finally found her down in the dungeon, staring at the table and still full, although no longer burning, cauldron from the night before. She didn't turn when she heard him on the stairs, but visibly tensed.

"Why did you do that?" she asked quietly.

"What?" Draco asked, surprised that she remembered anything.

"You didn't tell me what the potion was… I would have been more careful if I had known… It wouldn't have happened. And then you… How could you take advantage of me the way you did?" she muttered. "And it's not even that it's me, really. That you'd do that to any woman…"

"Honestly, I wasn't thinking about you as a woman at the time," Draco said, nearly rolling his eyes when she finally turned around only to glare at him. "What I mean is, I was thinking of you as a friend, in a really bad situation, who needed help, and I was the only one here to help you. If I were trying to take advantage of you, do you think I would've left it up to chance that you would've just _happened_ to brew the potion right, even with different ingredients, and just _happen _to ingest it?"

"That doesn't change what you did!"

"Do you still not realize what that potion does, Hermione? Even after it's finished, it is the most potent lust potion known to mankind! The effects do not stop until it's satisfied, and at the stage you took it, it's hell when it's happening! Maybe you don't remember how bad it was now that it's over. But watching it was horrible, so it had to be bad," Draco said, exasperated. "Look, I've been in the same situation myself before."

He couldn't believe he was telling her this. Only two people in the world knew about it, because they were involved in the incident. It was when he had first started developing the formula, when it was still in the testing stage.

"Oh? Did someone 'help' you, then?" Hermione snapped. Draco smirked.

"Blaise found me," he said and Hermione blanched. "I had already been under the potion's influence for an entire week by that point. I was nearly out of my mind. But Blaise is smarter than he looks… or acts. He figured it out."

"So he…" Hermione trailed off, her eyes wide. Draco scoffed.

"Hell no," he said. "He took me to Ishya's place. She took care of me. That was how I got into business with her. She was interested in the effects of the drug, and what it would mean for her business. I realized that by selling to her, I would have a steady market without having to mass-produce the powder and conform to the regulations on marketable substances that were in place at the time. Then of course, the law changed, and now all tradable goods, even if they're not available to the general public, have to conform. And here we are."

"So Ishya is a prostitute?" Hermione asked.

"No, Ishya is a friend," Draco said pointedly. "Just like we're friends. She just happens to own a brothel."

"We're friends?" Hermione asked, surprised. Draco smirked at her.

"I like to think so."

/

"Mr. Thomas! How good to see you again! And right on time!" a woman in green robes said cheerfully after Dean had bid Harry and Ginny one final goodbye at the train station before he departed to return to Wales.

Dean didn't answer the woman, but nodded to her in acknowledgement. She led him to one of the compartments on his train. The Ministry had clearly sent her to make sure he departed as scheduled. He loaded his bags into the overhead compartments and then turned to the woman. She was quite pretty, but she made him uneasy. Of course, he didn't think that after the Ministry's decision about his exile from the wizarding world, any of the people present that day would ever cease to make him uneasy.

He reached up and pulled the collar of his shirt down to expose the brand that had been placed there. It had stopped him from being able to tell anyone the entire story of his experience with the census, and he had been warned that it would kill him should he disobey that order, or not show up for his train today.

"You'll remove it, then?" Dean asked. The woman smirked, her beautiful face becoming a sickly delighted mask.

"Oh now, Mr. Thomas," she cooed. "I'm afraid we can't do that. You're just much too high-risk to be allowed to live."

/

**AN**: So. Thoughts? Comments? Guesses on who the woman is? Can't wait to hear from you!

The next chapter will contain the gala, and that's where the story is _really _going to take off! I'll try to have it out by Tuesday! Hope to see you all then! :D


	8. Sparks

**The Agreement  
**Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Eight**: Sparks

**AN**: Thanks to everyone who added this story to their alerts and faves last chapter! Special thanks to **SheLovesMalfoy**, **Bunny115**, **padfootsgrl79**, **HPfan29**, **starlight-x-A-x**, **Rae16**, **Alle**, **Hans153**, **Guisoris**, **SauerKirshe**, **4SnowWolf**, and **ApterousAngel** for reviewing!

This chapter is being posted early because of your amazing responses! And because I couldn't answer some of your questions without ruining this chapter, so I wanted to post and let you guys find out that way, without ignoring you. Rambling now, enjoy the chapter! :D

/

Hermione collapsed onto Ginny and Harry's bed as the younger woman went through her closet, tossing rejected items over her shoulder.

"Thanks again, Ginny," she said timidly. "Yesterday was so crazy, I didn't even think about what I was going to wear to the gala."

"Hmm," came Ginny's irritated reply from the closet.

"Are you mad about something?" Hermione asked. Ginny had seemed to be in a foul mood since Hermione had asked to borrow a dress.

"Mad? No. Why would I be mad?" Ginny asked, her voice falsely cheery. "My best friend wants to borrow one of my nice dresses to parade around with a ferret! It's fantastic."

Hermione sighed, squeezing her eyes to stave off the headache she felt forming.

"Hey Gin, are you planning on popping any time soon?" she grumbled. The movement from the closet abruptly stopped. After a moment Ginny reemerged, grasping a light blue silk dress, her eyes watering. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry," Hermione said quickly, sitting up.

"No," Ginny said, her voice wavering. "I know I've been… difficult lately. But you know, my ankles are swollen and my back hurts because I'm a little woman and Harry produces giant mutant babies that like to kick my kidneys and my due date was four days ago and _I don't think he's coming out!"_ She burst out crying as she finished her sentence, burying her face in the dress in her hands. Hermione stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to say to that outburst.

"Oh, Gin," she said carefully, standing and cautiously approaching the hormonal witch. "Of course he's coming out…"

"No, he's not!" Ginny wailed. "I'm going to be a big fat slob for the rest of my life! _I have a four day old child inside of me!"_

"Oh, come on," Hermione said, wrapping her arms around Ginny. "It's not that bad. James was a week early, remember? There's no way to tell for sure when these things are going to happen."

"I know!" Ginny said indignantly. "But I don't want to be pregnant anymore!"

It was another few minutes before Hermione managed to calm Ginny down, but finally the witch removed the dress from her face, sniffling. She looked down at the blue silk and for a moment Hermione thought Ginny might start crying again.

"Well," Ginny said, clearing her throat before holding the dress up so that Hermione could see the water stains across the bodice. "I don't think you'll be wanting to wear this one, then…"

/

After several hours of being plucked, primmed, and prissed by Ginny, who seemed to be in a much better mood after her slight breakdown, Hermione was finally ready for the gala. Ginny had managed to find her a sage green gown with a dipping neck and low back, made out of some floaty material that swished about her legs as she walked. She hair was tamed and softly curled so that it fell in a gentle cloud around her shoulders.

"What is this gala for, anyway?" she asked Ginny, a bit surprised that she hadn't heard by now. She had been too preoccupied worrying about everything else to wonder about it up to that point.

"I don't know, some charity for something or other," Ginny answered from the bathroom, sounding bored. "They happen quite often, actually. It's always something really boring like the Commission to Rebind Moldy Old Books or the Society for the Prevention of Grout in Washrooms."

"I really hope you're joking," Hermione groaned.

"Only a bit, that's what's scary," Ginny said grimly, emerging from the bathroom, self-consciously smoothing her midnight blue dress over her huge stomach. "How do I look?"

"Beautiful," Hermione said honestly. Ginny raised an eyebrow at her. "And very pregnant, yes. But it suits you. It gives you a bit of a glow."

"Right," Ginny scoffed. "I'm telling you, the first person to ask me when I'm due is getting a stiletto through their skull."

"Stilettos? With those ankles?" Hermione teased. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"I'll borrow yours, then," she said as she sat down to wrestle her flats on. Hermione thought it seemed like quite the chore, given that Ginny could barely reach her feet. She heard the door slam downstairs, announcing Harry's arrival, and checked her watch. "I'd better go," she said. "I'm meeting Dr- Malfoy at the manor and we're going from there. Might look strange if we show up separately."

"Yeah, it would," Ginny said. "We'll see you there. And remember, we're trying to keep an eye on Dekeyrel and his goons while we're there."

Hermione nodded. She was glad that it had occurred to Harry that this would be a prime spying opportunity, because again she had been too preoccupied to think of it.

"We'll meet up here after to discuss what we find out, yeah?" Ginny said and Hermione nodded, a grin spreading over her face.

"Unless your water breaks at the gala, of course," she teased.

"Don't jinx it," Ginny groaned. Hermione laughed as she made her way down to the stairs, waving off Harry's questioning look as she reached the door. At least Ginny was joking now. Not that Hermione could really hold it against her that she had been cranky. She'd probably be in a foul mood as well if she were…

_Wait a minute…_

That bastard!

/

Draco turned from side to side in front of his full-length mirror, checking his appearance. He didn't think much of muggle clothing, but their suits were in fashion over the more traditional dress robes. The Malfoys may be inarguably disgraced, but they were not going to be accused of being unfashionable if Draco could help it.

He could practically hear his father now, _"Muggle clothing, Draco? Really, how… quaint."_

Draco practically mocked him out loud, the accuracy was so amusing.

Finally deciding he didn't look too bad, he turned back to Blaise, straightening his tie.

"Shouldn't you be going home to get ready?" he asked.

"I'm not going," Blaise answered sharply.

"Why's that?"

"Because going would involve taking Pansy," Blaise said. "Which would involve spending an evening listening to her insipid opinions on affairs that she does not understand in the least."

"Why Blaise, tell us how you really feel," Draco said, trying not to laugh at Blaise's misfortune. It wouldn't be funny, if it weren't for the fact that Pansy treated Blaise just as badly as he treated her. It was really more of a comedy act than anything; from an outside perspective, anyway.

Blaise's response was cut off as they felt the wards weaken and heard the front door open and close.

"She's here!" Blaise exclaimed. "The thoroughly debauched maiden has arrived!"

"You have been playing knights too much," Draco said, his voice raising as Blaise sauntered towards the entry hall. "Don't you dare make fun of her for last night!"

"I'm just going to have a bit of fun, is all," Blaise said, his voice fading as he made his way down the hall. "Once I find her."

"What?"

"I have no idea where she's gone, mate!" Blaise answered. Draco shook his head, straightening his tie as he left his room. It would probably be best if Draco found Hermione before Blaise did, anyway. Blaise sometimes went a bit overboard when he got excited about something, and for some reason the idea of Draco having anything to do with Hermione had greatly amused him.

"Where'd she go?" Blaise asked. Draco shrugged, walking to the study. Blaise followed him, peering curiously at each door as he passed. Draco rolled his eyes.

"If you want to search for her, go ahead. But I doubt she's hiding. More than likely she's actually up to something."

He entered the office, walking behind the desk and facing the wall. With a wave of his wand, the patterns in the wood paneling rearranged themselves into a map of Malfoy Manor.

"What is that?" Blaise asked in awe.

"Father enchanted it when the Dark Lord was occupying the manor, so that he always knew where his followers, or his prisoners were. It was a sort of precaution. They were bound to the manor at the time, but it's large enough for people to hide in and wait out a battle, should it come to it," Draco explained as his eyes raked over the map. He located himself and Blaise in the study, and then found Hermione. "She's in the dungeons."

"Kinky," Blaise snickered.

"Where we're working on the formula," Draco clarified.

"Which has also proven kinky."

Deciding to ignore Blaise, Draco made his way to the dungeons. Blaise tromped after him, practically humming with excitement.

"Circe," Blaise said once they reached the dungeon. Draco was, for once in his life, speechless. Hermione was seated on the edge of the table, her dress pulled up to her thighs as her shapely legs dangled over the edge, crossed at the knees. One strap fell off of her shoulder, exposing just the slightest view of the swell of her breast.

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, not really believing what he was seeing. Was this really Granger? What the hell had gotten into her?

"Well, I was thinking about last night, and I thought I'd come by a little early for the gala, so we have some alone time before we have to leave," she said. Draco gaped at her and she smirked.

"Mate," Blaise muttered, nudging Draco, "are you seeing this? Seriously?"

"Go home, Blaise," Draco managed to say.

"I'm not going anywhere," Blaise said, sounding practically giddy.

"Go home, Blaise," Hermione said, still smirking at Draco. Blaise let out a defeated sigh and started towards the stairs.

"Fine," he said. "I have an appointment at Ishya's, anyway."

Once he was gone, Hermione raised his hand and beckoned Draco to her, smiling seductively as she uncrossed her legs.

"Contraception charm," Hermione gasped, pushing Draco's hands away as he tried to slide them further up her thighs. Draco smirked at her.

"Please," he scoffed, leaning in to kiss her neck again. The next second he was knocked off balance as Hermione's hands came up and pushed hard against his chest.

"I knew it!" she spat, hopping down from the table and stomping towards him, her heels clicking on the stone floor. "I knew you didn't use one last night, you sick, arrogant little weasel!"

"Calm down," Draco said, sounding slightly amused. This only made Hermione madder.

"Calm down? _Calm down?_" Hermione demanded, poking him sharply in the chest.

"Now, Hermione, you're going to mess up my shirt," he said. "Well, if we're done here, we should get going to the gala."

Draco turned and started towards the stairs, leaving Hermione gobsmacked for a moment before she followed him.

"No, we are not done here! What the hell is wrong with you? Maybe you don't know how these things work, but what if I'm pregnant? I don't want to be pregnant! Especially with _your_ spawn!" she ranted.

"You're not pregnant."

"How the hell do you know that?" she demanded as they entered the sitting room and Draco picked up a jar of Floo Powder from the mantle.

"We're going to be late," Draco said instead of answering her. She let out an irritated cry.

"I don't care about the stupid-"

"Ministry of Magic!" Draco shouted, tossing the powder into the fire as his other hand closed around Hermione's, pulling her after him.

They flew through, grates flying past them as Hermione tried to make sense of what had just happened. Then they were tumbling out of the fire and Hermione was suddenly grateful for Draco's hand on her arm as she stumbled slightly on the stone hearth.

"We are not done talking about this," she hissed once she had caught her breath.

"I believe we are," Draco answered. Hermione gritted her teeth.

"You know, it was one thing when I thought you were just trying to stop the effects of the potion, but this is just disgusting. It shows that you weren't just trying to help, because if you really gave a damn about my well-being, you would've used the charm!" Hermione continued. Draco ignored her, sweeping off towards the atrium where the gala was being held. Hermione rushed after him, reveling in the angry sound her heels made against the floor as though to punctuate her point.

"I can't believe I even believed you in the first place! It was obviously such a load of-"

"Lover's spat?" a syrupy sweet voice asked and suddenly Hermione was aware that her heels were not the only one she could hear alongside hers. She and Draco both stopped in their tracks, turning to see Rita Skeeter right behind them, her eyes alight with a hunger that Hermione unfortunately recognized after years of dealing with the woman.

"Eavesdropping, Miss Skeeter?" Draco said smoothly. "How iniquitous of you."

"Oh, you misunderstand me," Rita said with a small laugh. "I couldn't help but overhear."

"Walking on our heels like that, I'm not surprised," Hermione muttered.

"I'm afraid this is a private matter," Draco continued as though Hermione hadn't spoken. "You understand, of course."

"Oh, of course, Mr. Malfoy," Rita said, seeming suddenly eager to end the conversation. Hermione thought it probably had more to do with the fact that she had spotted Harry and Ginny arriving than Draco's explanation, but was glad to see her go regardless.

Hermione turned to glare at Draco again. He just smirked at her.

"Well?" she asked.

"I think we should probably discuss this later," Draco said calmly. "We should find our table."

With that he walked off, leaving Hermione to stew on his unsatisfactory answer. He knew he could explain it easily, but hell, this was more fun. Hermione followed him after a moment and they finally found their table, close to the speaker's podium. They sat down and Hermione checked the place card next to her.

_Melaina Rogar_, it read. She had never heard of her before.

"Who's sitting beside you?" Hermione asked Draco, reluctantly allowing the subject to change.

"Napoleon Dekeyrel, and Andrea Cipolleti beside him," he answered and Hermione groaned. "They're really not that bad, Hermione."

"I just didn't think I'd actually have to be this close to them and keep up this charade," she muttered. "Especially being mad at you." Draco shrugged, seeming unconcerned, and Hermione sighed. "I wonder who the other three are?"

"Check, if you want to know," Draco said.

"I'm not going to go around and check the place cards," Hermione said. It seemed uncouth, somehow.

"Then wait and see," was Draco's solution.

Hermione pursed her lips and glared down at her plate, but her silence did not last long.

"Am I remembering last night wrong, then?" she asked, returning to the previous conversation without preamble. "Didn't you-"

"Enough!" Draco growled, his hand slamming down on the table between them. Hermione jumped. "You have forgotten your place. We will discuss this _later_."

"I'm not interrupting, am I?" a concerned voice interrupted before Hermione could even process the fact that Draco had just openly scolded her. She looked up and her breath caught in her throat as she found herself face-to-face with Ron Weasley for the first time in five years.

"As long as you live and breathe, Weasel," Draco sneered. Ron rolled his eyes and moved to sit two places away from Hermione. She nearly groaned. This night could not possibly get any more awkward than it was now, at the same table with the ex-boyfriend that she had essentially abandoned when she went to the muggle world, and her new, pretend boyfriend that he hated.

Or at least she thought so, until someone pulled the seat out beside her and she looked up to see Draco holding the chair as a pretty blonde woman sat down. Draco sneered at Ron, who looked embarrassed to not have pulled the chair out for the woman himself. She must be Melaina Rogar, Hermione realized. And judging by the way Rita Skeeter was practically drooling as she stared at them from another table a few feet away, she was Ron's mystery fiancée.

"So you two are an item now, then?" Ron asked abruptly, glaring at Draco. Hermione was tempted to glare at him as well, now that she thought of it, but she just nodded silently. "How fitting."

"Now Ron," Melaina simpered and Hermione had the sudden urge to smack the girl. It wasn't her business in the least.

"Perhaps you should listen to your fiancée, Weasel," Draco sneered.

"Perhaps you should shut your trap, Malfoy," a new voice retorted as Ginny and Harry appeared, taking the other two unknown seats at the table. Hermione had never been happier to see them, especially since Draco seemed to begrudgingly follow Ginny's advice - maybe because it sounded more like a threat. "Hello Hermione," Ginny continued, her tone becoming more cheerful. Ron glared at her.

This was going to be a long event, Hermione decided as she saw Dekeyrel and Cipoletti approaching the table.

/

Hermione poked at her salad, not able to find the appetite to actually eat any of it. She was physically and emotionally exhausted. The speeches, aimed at the need for equal rights for non-humans such as the centaurs and merfolk, seemed to have stretched on for hours by themselves, followed by a lengthy speech about how grateful the foundation was for the donations from attendants to further their cause. Under normal circumstances, it was a cause that Hermione was sure she would sympathize with, but she couldn't find it in herself to care about much of anything other than when the gala would be over.

"… Quite an important cause to Hermione, of course, so I had the donation made in her name," Draco was saying, and Hermione snapped out of her thoughts as she heard her name.

"You don't see a problem with creatures being granted the same rights as wizards?" Cipoletti asked, raising her eyebrows in disbelief.

"My opinion on the matter is not the topic, I'm afraid," Draco answered, curtailing the question. He had adopted an annoying, cheerful, "public" voice, and it was quickly grating on Hermione's nerves.

"Of course, we all know your opinion on that anyway," Ron interjected.

"At least I have an opinion and don't just blindly follow a man-made idol," Draco said calmly. Ron blushed and Harry opened his mouth to protest but Ginny patted his hand and subtly shook her head.

"How is the census going?" Harry asked instead, turning his attention to Dekeyrel.

"Very well," the man said. "We've gotten nearly everyone taken care of."

"Taken care of?" Harry asked.

"Registered, of course," Cipoletti said, smiling. Harry looked as though he wanted to ask something else, but stayed quiet for the moment. Silence descended over the group and Hermione was glad for the moment's peace. It didn't last long, though.

"I'm very interested in hearing Miss Granger's views on the rights of creatures with near-human intelligence," Cipoletti steered the conversation back to the previous topic, seeming not to notice the withering glare Hermione was sending her.

Hermione didn't answer, and after a moment Draco placed his hand on her shoulder as though to gain her attention.

Hermione glared at him, her jaw set. There was silence for a moment as Dekeyrel and Cipoletti looked questioningly at each other and then back to Hermione and Draco.

"Don't you want to share your opinions on the subject, love?" Draco asked, quirking an eyebrow and smirking as she continued to glare at him.

"Oh, I have many opinions to share with you when we talk _later_," Hermione said pointedly, resting her hand in her lap, still gripping her fork tightly.

"Isn't she just delightful?" Draco asked the group in that annoying public-voice. Hermione gritted her teeth, digging her fork into Draco's leg under the table. She had had just about enough of this.

"Oh, honey," she answered, adopting a falsely-jovial voice of her own. "I _really_ don't think you want to patronize me right now."

Draco gritted his teeth, surprised that she had actually stabbed him with her fork.

"If you'll excuse us for a moment," Draco said to the table, snatching Hermione's fork from her hand before standing up, pulling her up with him. "We'll be back shortly."

Draco led Hermione out of the atrium and down an adjacent hall, away from the prying eyes and ears of the gala attendees.

"Malfoy, you're hurting me," she snapped, jerking her arm out of his grasp.

"Oh, so you _are _aware that I'm a Malfoy?" Draco sneered, leaning in close to Hermione, forcing her to back into the wall behind her.

"Of course I'm-" she started, but before she could finish the sentence, Draco slammed a hand against the wall by her head.

"And you're aware we're _dating_, correct?" he continued.

"Unfortunately-"

"Then I suggest you start acting like it," Draco hissed. He leaned in further until his face was against hers, his mouth by her ear. "We're being watched," he whispered. "Closely."

/

**AN**: Some of you may be wondering where James - Harry's son - is through all of this. I haven't found a way to write it in yet, and I may go back and add it into an earlier chapter, but he's visiting with Andromeda and Teddy while the group is trying to figure out what's going on with the census. It was a precaution that Harry decided to take in case it turns out to be something like the last war. Which seems smart now, yes? Haha.

Many of you guessed that Umbridge was the woman in the last chapter - according to the lexicon, she was tried for war crimes and sent to Azkaban. Using my story's rules, this would hold true. Even if it didn't, however, she probably would not be trusted to hold office in the Ministry any more. So no, it's not Umbridge.

On the subject of older canon characters, I also received a question about Snape. This story is Deathly Hallows compliant, but ignores the epilogue. So everything other than the epilogue holds true. :D So unfortunately no, there will be no Snape.

Hope to hear from all of you! Thanks for reading!


	9. Addiction

**The Agreement  
**Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Nine**: Addiction

**AN**: Thanks so much to everyone who read the last chapter and added this story to their alerts and faves! And special thanks to **SheLovesMalfoy**, **Sheebs**, **ultimanoapte**, **Jade2099**, **SauerKirsche**, **Pixie-Fate**, **Alliy**, **Hans153**, **starlight-x-A-x**, **KenLuverDH**, **Hans153**, **4SnowWolf**, and **HPfan29** for reviewing!

Thanks for reading, and enjoy the new chapter!

/

"We're being watched," Draco whispered. "Closely."

Hermione held back a gasp at this news, refraining from searching around them. If Draco was right, she didn't want to tip the spy off to the fact that she was aware of them.

"Understand?" Draco asked, his voice firm once more.

"Yes, Draco," she said meekly, going along with the act.

"Good," he said, stepping back. "Now let's return to the table."

He extended his arm and Hermione laced hers through his, allowing him to lead her back to the atrium. Her entire body was on edge, intensely aware of everyone around her, trying to figure out who Draco was talking about. No one seemed particularly interested in them as they returned, absorbed in their own conversations and meals.

"Is everything okay?" Melaina asked, seeming concerned as the pair sat back down.

"Oh, fine," Hermione said, forcing herself to smile at the witch. "I'm just a bit under the weather, is all. I apologize for my attitude."

"Perhaps you should retire early, if you're not feeling well," Melaina suggested. Hermione shook her head.

"No, as Draco said, this is a cause that I feel very strongly about," she parroted. "I plan to stay and support it."

"But of course you realize the shortfalls of the legislation they are supporting," Dekeyrel said.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Hermione said, her tone polite as dislike for the man radiated through every fiber of her being.

"The proposed laws to increase the rights of creatures is not intended to void the laws that protect the same creatures from interference from the wizarding community," Cipoletti answered. "So we would be giving them the same rights as wizards, with no responsibilities. In the event that house elves were, for example, released from their bonds to wizards and allowed free use of their magic, and they slaughtered the family they served, there are no provisions to prosecute the elf."

"Perhaps if elves were not enslaved and mistreated, they would not feel the need to murder their 'families'," Hermione said. She continued, at a warning look from Draco. "I don't mean to insinuate that all elves are mistreated, but I myself have seen what loyal and caring creatures they are by nature, and they would not do something such as you are suggesting without just reason."

"You are suggesting, then, that a creature naturally inferior to wizards should be given the same rights by law because they _might_ not cause harm?" Dekeyrel asked.

"I suppose that depends on your definiton of inferiority, Mr. Dekeyrel," Hermione answered evenly. "I myself tend to think of them as entirely different beings, and therefore not exactly comparable to humans. That would be like considering a tomato inferior to a pumpkin."

Harry chuckled and Ginny nudged him pointedly.

"The fact is that granting these creatures greater rights could impede upon our rights as wizards," Dekeyrel said as though there had been no interruption.

"What rights, precisely? Our right to rule over a race entirely different than our own as though they were inferior?"

"You're reading too far into my words," Dekeyrel said lightly. "Clearly elves were a poor example. What about the trolls or giants?"

"The trolls and giants are not considered creatures possessing near-human intelligence," Draco pointed out. "Therefore, they are subject to entirely different laws and regulations."

"But the centaurs," Cipoletti started, "have already proven that they are a danger to humans, and giving them more rights and freedoms would only put us in greater danger. I mean, look at what they did to Delores."

"Delores was given fair warning, and chose to bait and insult a group of centaurs regardless," Harry said. "It's not quite the same thing. If anything, it illustrates the need for greater respect from the wizarding community and the folly of believing that we are superior as wizards to any other being with magical abilities."

"The fact is that wizards _are_ superior to other beings," Dekeyrel said loftily. "It is therefore our responsibility to keep the natural hierarchy in order."

"That sort of thinking could be dangerous, though," Harry said carefully, and Hermione could tell that he was about to breach the real subject. "Isn't it the same sort of ideals that led to the last war - wizards being superior to others and being responsible for keeping others in their place?"

"It is only dangerous when taken to an extreme, Mr. Potter," Cipoletti said quietly. "I don't believe that creatures rights are not quite the same thing as a massive holocaust."

"Not in practice, but in principle," Harry conceded. "The problem is, those principles often lead to such practices."

"Well said, Mr. Potter," Dekeyrel said, his lips curling. "I hope you are not suggesting that any such thing would happen?"

"I would like to think there is no reason for any such thing to happen," Harry said, his flat tone mirroring Dekeyrel's.

"Well, I don't know about the rest of you, but all of this political talk is giving me somewhat of a headache," Melaina said after a moment, smiling brightly at the others. Hermione had almost forgotten that she and Ron were there, they had spoken so little since the conversation started. "Have you all read about the new production being put on at the-"

The conversation turned to arts and coming events. Hermione tuned them out, noticing with an air of annoyance that she was getting a slight headache.

When their plates finally cleared, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was finally over. She stood as she heard a low scraping of chairs, announcing the other attendees rising as well. She nearly cursed when she heard the music start and the tables magically cleared themselves out of the way.

As a slow waltz started, Draco took Hermione's hand. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but stopped at the warning look he gave her. She placed her free hand on his shoulder as his rested on her waste. Hermione didn't have any dancing experience, apart from the few lessons before the Yule Ball and a few ill-fated ballet lessons as a young girl, so she had to rely on Draco to lead her.

Draco was a surprisingly good dancer, sweeping her across the dance floor, smirking a little when she stumbled.

"You did well," he said quietly, never pausing his movements. "A little _too_ opinionated for a Malfoy's girlfriend, perhaps, but that can be attributed to a newer relationship."

"Well, excuse me," Hermione muttered.

"No need," Draco said dismissively, smirking.

"I'm still mad at you, you know," Hermione informed him. He chuckled.

"Oh, I'm very aware of that. But you're playing it off well," he said, holding her closer. "So what did you think of our dining companion's views?"

"Not much. It seems very typical of their sort," Hermione said.

"Their sort?"

"Arrogant, purist, superiority complex inflicted wizards," Hermione clarified.

"My sort, you mean," Draco said easily.

"Well, yes," she confirmed. Draco smiled, releasing her him for a moment to spin her before bringing her close to him once more.

"You never did ask my opinion on this cause," he said.

"Yours is not the one that matters," Hermione said. Draco nodded.

"You're right, I suppose," he said before dipping her low and bringing her back up as the music faded. He lowered his mouth to her ear and she couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through her as his breath ghosted over her skin. "But for the record, I happen to support it," he muttered.

"Really?" Hermione asked, surprised. The music began again, a slow ballad, and Draco brought her arms up to wrap loosely around his neck as his moved to her waist. She raised an eyebrow at him at the high school-like stance. Draco shrugged.

"I really don't dance much," he admitted. "But they always start with a waltz, so I've become quite adapt at that."

"Do you want to stop?" she asked, glad for an excuse to leave the dance floor.

"Not just yet," Draco said softly, smiling at her. Hermione was suddenly very aware of his body against hers, and her pulse picked up, bringing a blush to her cheeks.

"I'm still mad at you," she repeated for good measure, embarrassed by her body's reaction to his proximity.

"I'm glad," he said, still smiling.

"Of course," she said, her voice growing softer. "You love infuriating me."

"More than anything," he agreed easily. Hermione saw over his shoulder that Dekeyrel was watching them closely, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. She rested her head on Draco's shoulder for good measure, letting her eyes close. Her headache had eased slightly, she was surprised to realize.

She felt strangely at ease, and wondered why. She was dimly aware that she was in a very dangerous situation - after all, if Dekeyrel wasn't convinced of their relationship, she could be brought up under review once again. Somehow, at that moment in time, it didn't seem as bad. She felt peaceful.

It wasn't to last, however, as a startled cry rang out through the atrium. Hermione started, whipping her head around to find the source of the noise, her hand going on instinct to the folds of her dress where her wand was concealed.

Ginny was standing several feet away from them, her right hand gripping Harry's shoulder, the other arm curved around her stomach, her mouth forming a surprised 'O'.

"Hermione Granger, I told you you'd jinx it!" she sputtered.

/

"AND THAT FERRET! AT THE BIRTH OF MY SON!" Ginny's cry rang around the waiting room as the door to the delivery room opened to allow a Healer to leave, temporarily breaking the silencing spell that had been containing her screams.

"I see she's a bit upset that I'm here," Draco said easily, leaning back in his chair. He and Hermione were seated in the hall, Hermione having been informed when they arrived that only Harry was to be permitted into the delivery room.

"I told you that you should probably go back to the manor," Hermione muttered. The Healer that had left only moments before passed by them again, opening the door to the room and disappearing inside once more.

"I SWEAR TO GOD, HARRY JAMES POTTER, IF YOU EVER TOUCH ME AGAIN, I'LL-"

The door swung shut, silencing Ginny's words once more.

"She seems to have moved on," Draco said. "Besides, I wanted to hear more about what you thought of the discussion on creature rights."

"Draco, I really don't think now is the time to discuss that," she said.

"Oh, so now you have a public conversation filter?" Draco asked, smirking. She rolled her eyes. "Come on, you really didn't notice anything odd at all?"

"I noticed plenty of things that were odd about that conversation, but I want to discuss them with Harry and-" the door swung open again.

"GET. IT. OUT!"

"- he seems a little busy, at present," Hermione finished once the shouting was silenced again.

"Really, what is the point of the silencing charms if they keep opening the door?"

"Well, without them, that would be nearly constant," Hermione pointed out.

"What a horrible thought," Draco muttered. "They should've done this the old-fashioned way."

"The old fashioned way?" Hermione repeated.

"Sure. The woman has the baby at home, and the man leaves, goes to the office, and does some work until he's called back," Draco said, grinning at her.

"No wonder you craved your father's approval so badly," Hermione said.

"I did not crave my father's approval. I feared my father," Draco said. "Completely different."

Hermione didn't argue with him, although she didn't see how one was better than the other. The door to the delivery room opened again, accompanied by complete silence.

"Well, that was eerie," Draco commented.

"Maybe she's done?" Hermione suggested. "But then shouldn't the baby be crying?"

"Not if it's any sort of respectable pureblood," Draco said calmly.

"It's _not_ a pureblood, not that that makes any difference," Hermione snapped.

"Actually, being that Ginny is pureblooded, and both of Potter's parents were wizards, their children are considered purebloods. And it _does_ make a difference, because pureblooded babies do not cry at birth," Draco drawled.

"You're lying," she said. "All babies cry at birth, unless there's something wrong."

"No, they don't, Hermione," Draco said, laughing at her.

The door opened again and this time Harry stepped out, looking on edge but happy.

"Albus Severus Potter. He's perfect," he breathed when he spotted Hermione.

"Told you," Draco muttered. Hermione stared at him, shocked. There was no way that he could be right about that, was there?

"Harry, did he cry?" Hermione asked, convinced that they must have just missed it.

"No?" Harry said, as though unsure of what she was expecting. "Why would he?"

Draco chuckled and Hermione glared at him.

/

It wasn't much later that Draco and Hermione stepped back through the manor's fireplace. Ginny had allowed Hermione in to see Albus Severus, but had kicked her out again in short order when she heard that Draco was still there.

"What a night," Draco groaned, crossing the sitting room to collapse onto the couch. Hermione crossed her arms as she glared at him. "What? I'm sorry the Weaselette kicked you out, okay? But really, if she's that concerned about me being in the same _building_-"

"You know that's not what I'm mad about," Hermione snapped. Now that they were back at the manor and out of the public eye, her temper was returning to her.

"You know what I think?" Draco said. "I think you are unusually moody tonight."

"Moody?" Hermione repeated. "I'm not _moody_, you're being a downright git!"

"Irritable, impulsive," Draco continued. "Unable to completely formulate a plan taking consequences into account… I bet your mouth is dry as hell and your chest feels tight, too. Maybe a bit of a headache."

Hermione licked her lips, damning him to hell for being right.

"So what?" she demanded.

"So, you're in withdrawals," Draco said. "I'm actually surprised they're not worse, considering how powerful the potion was. Maybe the passion flower was a good idea."

"Are you serious right now? You want to talk about that stupid potion?" Hermione demanded as Draco stood and strode past her. She followed him as he made his way down to the dungeons. "You may think this is all a huge joke, but I'm serious! I want to know exactly _what_ you could have been thinking by not using the charm!"

"You know," Draco said casually as they reached the bottom of the steps, "I always wonder why witches are so quick to blame the wizard in circumstances like these. You know you are as capable as me to cast that charm, and yet it's my fault."

"You knew I was under the influence of that drug, and you weren't! You should have done it!" Hermione argued. Draco, rooting through the cupboards, didn't answer her immediately. After a moment he pulled out a small glass vial of a powdered substance, unscrewing the top and, after wetting his finger in the water basin beside the cabinet, pressed his finger to the powder.

"The way I see it, Hermione, you have a choice," he said calmly. "You may choose to wait out the withdrawals, or you can open your mouth. But rest assured that I am not explaining anything to you when you're in this state. It could be dangerous."

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of his suggestion, but before she could, he placed his finger in her mouth, pressing lightly against her tongue.

"Excellent choice," he said. "Now, have a seat," he continued, conjuring a chair out of thin air beside Hermione. She sat, still glaring at him, but she felt her anger wane as her body started to warm a bit - nothing compared to the burning of the previous night, however.

"Now, you wanted to know why I didn't use the contraception charm," Draco started. Hermione nodded, her eyelids growing heavy. Was this the finished potion? "I did not use it because I do not, at present, need it."

Hermione tried to make her foggy brain process what Draco was saying, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

"So you're impotent?" she asked. Draco smirked at her.

"No, I'm not _impotent_, if you'll recall," he said. "My great-great-great grandfather was especially particular about protecting the blood status of the family, and so to eliminate the possiblity of illegitimate or 'dirty' children, he placed a curse on the men in the family, making us infertile until such time as we are bonded."

"What if you're bonded to a muggle-born?" Hermione asked after a moment, finally understanding his explanation.

"He relied on good old family morals to avoid that," Draco said. "It's held up pretty well."

Hermione nodded, feeling the last of her concentration slip away from her. She knew dimly that this was definitely the effects of the finished potion. She surveyed Draco, mildly unsure of how to approach him, but knowing that she would have to, or incinerate.

Or maybe she would have to _to _incinerate.

She wasn't sure what she wanted more.

Hermione stood, crossing the short space between herself and Draco, barely hesitating before raising her arms to let her hands tangle gently in his hair, pulling him down to touch her lips to his.

It was agony, and relief, all at once, when his lips brushed hers. It wasn't enough, and she was familiar with that feeling. Draco had mentioned withdrawals. Was she addicted? Would she be addicted forever?

Was she addicted to the drug?

Was she addicted to Draco?

She hated Draco.

As their kiss deepened, his fingers deftly gliding over the sensitive skin of her back, exposed by her dress, Hermione decided she didn't care.

/

**AN**: Well... Thoughts? Comments? Questions? I can't wait to hear from you guys! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! :D


	10. Fury

**The Agreement  
**Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Ten**: Fury

**AN**: Thanks so much to everyone who read the last chapter and added this story to their alerts and faves! And special thanks to **Priscina Alice Malfoy**, **Anonymous**, **HPfan29**, **Scarlet Dewdrops**, **helikesitheymikey**,** EbonySoul25**, **ultimanoapte**, **sm**, **Hans153**, **starlight-x-A-x**, **Bunny115**, **Alle**, **ApterousAngel**, **4SnowWolf**, **PadfootObsessed329**, **SauerKirsche**, **Noree-Chan**, **-typing-pictures-**, **Pixie-Fate**, **Tsuki916**, **Ch3ckZz**, and **rec2527 **for reviewing! We're over 100 reviews now, and I couldn't be happier! :D

As an answer to something a _lot _of people asked about: there is no reason in particular, in my story, as to why pureblood babies don't cry at birth. To be honest, I was at a loss as to what Draco and Hermione could talk about while waiting, and I let my (maybe strange and a little too subtle) sense of humour get away from me. It was supposed to be a subtle nudge at the strict social rules expected from purebloods, even as children, and nothing more. Sorry for any confusion I caused with that. D:

Thanks for reading, and without further adieu, please enjoy the new chapter!

/

Hermione sighed, resting her head against Draco's bare chest. The effects of the potion were finally wearing off, and she was exhausted. She was mildly surprised that Draco didn't send her to the guest room, but thankful that she didn't have to force herself to move.

"So, ready to talk about the dinner conversation?" Draco asked. Hermione wrinkled her brow.

"Why on earth do _you_ want to talk about that?" she asked. Draco chuckled.

"I'm really interested to see if you noticed the same thing that I did," he said.

"Like what?" she asked. What could Draco have possibly noticed that she didn't.

"Well, everyone offered an opinion except the Weasel and his vapid little fiancee," Draco said. "I understand the Weasel, because like I said, he just parrots the ideals of certain others, and it would have been annoyingly redundant. But the fiancee..."

"Maybe Ron finally found someone who blindly follows a leader, same as him," Hermione said, shrugging, moving to fold her arms over Draco's chest, resting her chin on them to look up at him.

"Not as friendly with the Weasel as in previous years?" Draco asked, smirking.

"We have a complicated past," Hermione said in a tone that left no room for further questions.

"Hmm," Draco hummed, seeming to accept that explanation for the moment. "I don't think that's the case with Melaina Rogar, though," he said. "She was much too opinionated on every other subject for that."

"I didn't really notice," Hermione admitted. "I didn't listen to much of the conversation following creature rights."

"I'm not surprised. Don't get my wrong, she's opinionated sure, but dull as a flobberworm," Draco said. "I had to force myself to seem even mildly interested in what she was saying. But that's not what struck me as most odd, it more confirmed my suspicions."

"What suspicions?"

"Well, think about it: Potter is aways seated closest to the podium because of his hero status and his quick rise through the Ministry," Draco said. "I'm always seated at the closest table, as well, because I donate generously to most causes. It's good publicity. But Dekeyrel, Cipoletti, the Weasel, and Melaina had no real reason to be seated there. My guess is that either Potter pulled strings to interrogate Dekeyrel without raising flags, or Dekeyrel did the same to keep an eye on us. But the Weasel and Melaina..."

"Had no reason to be seated there," Hermione said, nodding. "Maybe it's because we're 'the Golden Trio', or something?"

"Weasel hasn't been given that seat for the last three years. His popularity faded pretty quickly as one of Potter's 'sidekicks'," Draco said, shaking his head.

"Then he was there because he's Melaina's fiance?" Hermione guessed.

"I believe so. But then why was Melaina there?" Draco asked. Hermione groaned. She didn't want to think about this now. Her mind was still slightly fogged, and she was tired. "I think she has something to do with Dekeyrel and Cipoletti."

"She seems too dim for that," Hermione said dismissively.

"Or she wants everyone to think that," Draco said.

"I think you're giving her too much credit," Hermione said, almost laughing at this theory. "She didn't even seem to have an opinion on something with as many parallels as creature rights."

"I think she did," Draco said. "Remember I told you we were being watched?"

"Yeah?"

"I think it wasn't that she didn't have an opinion, but that she would rather hear yours and Potter's," he said. Hermione thought about it. She supposed it was possible.

"Were you watching her?" she asked.

"Closely," Draco confirmed. "Most people who don't care for a subject, or don't know much about it, will tune it out, like you did when the topic turned to current wizarding theatre. But she was very aware, following the conversation, and she didn't seem to be trying very hard to keep her expressions in check."

"How so?"

"Well, she looked at Dekeyrel and Cipoletti as if they were preaching gospel, but looked almost frustrated with you."

"She looked frustrated," Hermione repeated dully.

"Like she was wondering how you could be so dim," Draco said, laughing softly.

"Draco!" Blaise's voice came booming from the other side of the door, accompanied by loud knocking.

"Christ," Draco groaned. Hermione jumped, suddenly completely aware, as though the last of the fog had been knocked from her head. She had been cuddling with _Draco_. Discussing things with him the way she would have with Harry or Ron. Like they were friends.

"It's sodding one in the morning, you great git!" Draco shouted as he got out of bed, grabbing his pants off of the floor and pulling them on as he hopped across the room. Hermione hurriedly followed suit, grabbing her dress and sliding it on before running her fingers through her hair, trying to make herself look as normal as possible before Draco opened the door.

"I know! I know, but you won't believe this, mate!" Blaise shouted back before the door was finally unlocked and opened. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said, a grin spreading over his face as he spotted Hermione over Draco's shoulder. "I didn't know I was interrupting."

"She's addicted, don't torment her," Draco said to Hermione's surprise. He was defending her?

"Well, I can understand that," Blaise said to Hermione. "I mean, he's quite habit-forming, isn't he?" He dodged quickly as Draco tried to slam the door where he had just been standing. "Okay, sorry, really this time!"

"What do you want?" Draco snapped.

"What?"

"Why are you here?" Draco asked slowly and deliberately. "What brought you barging into my home at one in the morning?"

"Oh! You're not going to believe this," Blaise said, his eyes widening. "They raided Ishya's place!"

There was silence for a moment and then Draco spun to glare at Hermione.

"Both of you," he hissed, "come with me."

He stalked from the room, leaving Blaise and Hermione to stare at each other in surprise.

"Ohhh," Blaise drawled. "You're going to _get it_."

They followed after him, Hermione wondering what Draco could possibly think she had to do with this - sure, he had just told her about Ishya that morning, but she didn't know anything about her business; where it was, or even the name of the place. And she had nothing to gain by telling anyone what Draco was up to. Actually, she had quite a lot to lose. Draco could expose her lie, or worse, could let it go on but tell everyone that they had slept together.

She nearly shuddered at the thought of her friend's reactions if they found out.

Draco led them down to the dungeons where, with a sweep of his wand, he cleared all of his notes and materials into a neat pile.

"Blaise, take these, and put them somewhere safe," he instructed, handing the pile of papers to Blaise. "Not your house, you hear me? And don't tell anyone where you're taking them, and don't say it now, either. You're to be the only one to know, got it?"

Blaise nodded as Draco turned his attention to Hermione, his fists clenching. He exhaled hard and turned away from her, going to the cupboard and taking out four vials of the powder that Hermione recognized as the finished formula.

"Now, Blaise!" Draco commanded, and the next second Blaise was gone, his footsteps echoing up the steps.

Draco lined the sink basin with parchment before pouring all four vials into it, pointing his wand at the mess.

"Incindio," he muttered through gritted teeth and the contents of the sink burst into flame. He let it burn out and then rinsed the ashen remains down the sink before turning to the cauldron, left undisturbed from Hermione's attempt at brewing the formula.

"Scourgify," he muttered. The couldron gave a soft kick, as if the potion was reluctant to leave, and then it stood, empty. Draco turned to her, his eyes bright with fury.

"You," he said. "You have something to do with this, don't you?" Hermione was silent, in shock at what she was witnessing. "_Don't you?_" he demanded, his voice growing louder. "You and that goddamned interfering fucking St. Potter!"

Hermione's heart raced as she eyed Draco's blackthorn wand, reminding her that she had left hers up in his bedroom. Draco crossed the dungeon to her, causing her to back up in her panic, her back hitting the stone wall behind her.

"Answer me!" Draco bellowed, his hands slamming down on either side of her head. She couldn't form words. She was scared, she realized. In just a few days, the idea of being scared of Draco had become almost completely foreign, but she was scared now.

"You seek me out. You come into _my _house, asking for my help," he hissed. "You make a deal with me. You sleep with me. You feel in a position to make demands of me and question my motives, and you sully my bed with your filth because I feel bad for putting you in a position to become addicted. And all the while, you're setting me up?"

Hermione couldn't answer him. He was wrong, but she was afraid to say so. He didn't seem to be in the right state of mind to listen to her, and she was unarmed.

She could hear his laboured breathing, feel it against her face as he glared at her, his jaw set.

"Get Potter here," he spat.

"But-"

"_Now_."

Hermione swallowed hard. How was she even supposed to get him here? She wasn't even entirely sure of what was going on, or what Harry was supposed to have to do with it.

"I'll need my wand," she managed to say. "And the card. I left them in your-"

"Use the Floo," Draco snarled. "You will not be setting foot in my room again. You'll get your wand back when I damn well feel like getting it for you. But I wouldn't hold my breath for the card."

"Draco, you can't just go back on our deal-"

"I owe you _nothing_, Granger!"

There was silence for a moment after this outburst, and Hermione felt her chest tighten at Draco's pointed use of her surname. After a moment Draco moved his hands from the wall, taking a step back and continuing to sneer at her.

"Go," he said, his voice quiet but harsh. Hermione dropped her gaze, turning and fleeing the dungeon while she could.

She entered the sitting room and without hesitation grabbed a handful of shimmering powder from the jar on the mantle, tossing it into the fireplace. Bright green flames sprang up immediately.

"Grimmauld Place!" she called out as she stepped into it, falling forward.

It wasn't long before she realized that something was very wrong. While she was definitely in the Floo network, with grates flying by her, she didn't seem to be going anywhere. In fact, everything seemed to be moving around her instead. She gasped in surprise at this realization, and inhaled a mouthful of ash.

She couldn't stop coughing for a few minutes as she swirled through nothingness, inhaling ashes. She tried to fix her gaze on a stationary point; any stationary point. Grates continued to fly by, too far for her to reach. She seemed to be drifting further away from them.

"Hermione!" she heard someone shout and she tried to twist around to find the source of the voice. It was more difficult than she had expected. A cold hand closed around her wrist, pulling her around. Her eyes grew wide when she saw who it was.

"Dean!" she gasped. He whipped his head around.

"They got you too?" he asked, sounding panicked. "Ginny said you were safe."

"What? Who?" she asked, feeling his fingers slip from her wrist as another hand wrapped around her free one, pulling her away from him. "Dean! What happened? What is this?"

His answer was drowned out by the roar of fire as she was pulled through a grate. She fell backwards into someone, knocking them both backwards.

"Hermione?" Harry's voice sputtered. "Are you okay?"

Hermione had to wait for her breath to return to her before she could physically answer him, but even once she felt she could form words, she wasn't sure how to explain what had occurred.

"Hermione?" Harry asked again, sounding worried. He stood and reached down to help Hermione to her feet as well.

"What happened?" Hermione managed to ask.

"I don't know, I just got home from some unexpected business and you were kind of flickering in and out in the Floo, like you were stuck or something," Harry said. "I'm surprised you managed to get that close to the grate, actually. The wards on Grimmauld Place limit the access under normal circumstances, and that maintenance is still going on."

Hermione vaguely remembered the article that she had skimmed over the day the census was announced, detailing the maintenance that would make the Floo Network inaccessable. Was that all that it was? Was that why she had gotten stuck? But then where was she? And why hadn't she been able to spot Harry through the grates, if he could see her? And...

"Dean!" she gasped. "Harry, I saw Dean Thomas in there! He must have gotten stuck, too!"

Harry stared at her in surprise for a moment before shaking his head.

"Dean was sent back to the muggle world, remember? He wouldn't have been able to access the Floo," he said.

"But I saw him!" Hermione protested. "He seemed scared. Maybe he's been stuck there for awhile; since everyone thought he left."

"That's impossible," Harry said. "He went back by train. Ginny and I saw him off."

"You actually saw him board?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded. "Then what was that?"

"Maybe you're tired, and then you panicked when you got stuck?" Harry suggested, but even he seemed to find that idea doubtful. "Why were you trying to access the Floo at two in the morning, anyway? You hate Floo almost as much as I do."

"Oh!" Hermione said, remembering why she was there. In the shock of what had happened in the Floo, she had forgotten for a moment. "Draco sent me to see you. He's really mad about... something," she said, deciding at the last minute not to let Harry know that she knew about Ishya and Draco's potion. If he really was behind the raid, she didn't want him to think she had witheld her knowledge of the potion to interfere in his work.

"You Floo'd here from Malfoy Manor?" Harry asked.

"We had some things to discuss after the gala," Hermione said. That part was true enough. She just chose to omit the part where she slept with one of his greatest enemies.

"But why the Floo?" Harry asked, still seeming confused by this aspect of the story.

"My wand is..." Hermione trailed off, embarrassed at the idea of telling Harry exactly where her wand was and why. "I didn't have my wand, so I couldn't apparate."

"I imagine this is about the raid tonight," Harry said calmly.

"Why did you do that, Harry?" Hermione asked before she could stop herself. "You know I need him to help me fool the Ministry right now. Why would you piss him off like that?"

"I have a plan," Harry said assuredly. Hermione stared at him, at a loss for words. "Don't worry, I'm not actually going to bring him or Madam Mishra before the ministry."

"You're not?" Hermione asked, taken aback. Harry shook his head. "Then why the theatrics? He's furious!"

"Because I need him to be afraid for himself to agree to what I want," Harry said. "He needs to be so desperate that he would sacrifice anyone else to save himself. As it is, that formula of his is an illegal substance, and a dangerous one at that, so he's facing time in Azkaban for that. Additionally, the ministry could shut Malfoy Industries down if they chose to. That should be enough of a threat to give me some leverage."

"What do you want from him?" Hermione asked. Harry shook his head.

"You'll hear soon, and it's best if you genuinely don't know about it before he hears it. He probably already thinks you're in on it, and I want him to see that you're not so he'll keep his deal with you," Harry said. "So he wants me to go to the manor?"

"Yeah, but if the Floo's not working..." Hermione said, motioning to the fireplace to indicate the futility of the situation.

"It doesn't matter," Harry said. "Assuming he doesn't have illegal wards up, I can get past them as an auror."

He grabbed Hermione by her forearm, turning swiftly on the spot and disappearing, taking Hermione with him.

/

Draco felt his wards break and cursed. It could only be Potter or one of the other Aurors.. A normal wizard wouldn't be able to actually break them, even if they managed to get through. He made his way down to the entry hall to find Potter and Hermione waiting for him. He felt like cursing Potter when he saw the smug look on his face. Hermione, for her part, looked a bit afraid as he descended the stairs to stand before them.

"Potter," he said in greeting, his jaw locked in irritation.

"Malfoy," the Auror returned. Hermione drifted away from him a bit, as though afraid Draco might start throwing curses at random and she would get caught in the crossfire. "You asked to see me?" Potter asked after a moment of silence.

"Call off your Aurors," Draco said, employing every last bit of the Malfoy aire of dominance that he possessed.

"Why should I?" Potter asked, smirking at him.

"Because if you don't, your muddy little friend will have to explain why she lied to Dekeyrel, and she'll be thrown out of our world before you have a chance to figure out what's going on," he said loftily, ignoring the pained look of shock on Hermione's face.

"Hermione has nothing to do with this," Potter said angrily.

"Maybe not," Draco said, not particularly caring to argue that point. "I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"I'll call off my men," Potter said. "Everything will go back to normal. Mishra's business will be left alone, and I might even be able to push your potion through the approval process at the Ministry, if you cooperate. But I want something in return."

"What's that, Potter?" Draco asked, narrowing his eyes. It had to be something big, if Potter was willing to do all of that.

"I want your parents in custody," Potter said. Hermione made a choking sound and Draco's eyes flashed to her shocked expression for a moment. "I want you to lure them back to England. I don't care how you do it, but I want it done."

There was silence for a moment as Draco considered this.

"I'll think about it," he said noncommitally. "But for now, as a show of good faith, call the Auror's off."

"I want an answer within the week if I do," Potter said.

"Done," Draco said, inwardly cursing Potter to every level of hell that he could imagine.

"Good doing business with you, Malfoy," Potter said, smirking. "I eagerly await your answer." He stepped towards the door but turned to address Malfoy one last time. "And another thing, Malfoy," he said. "Don't send Hermione through your Floo again."

With that he was gone. Draco wondered what that had been about, but didn't have time to dwell on it as he noticed that Hermione had remained behind. His blood seemed to boil as he looked at her. Potter had said that she had nothing to do with it, but then, Potter hadn't exactly proven to be the most trustworthy of sources.

Hermione opened her mouth to address him, but he cut her off.

"Do not speak to me," he hissed. Hermione lowered her eyes, her mouth snapping shut. "I'll come find you when I am ready to discuss this. In the meantime, I don't suggest you leave the manor."

He didn't know what made him want her to stay, but it seemed important that she did. He shrugged it off and turned away from her, heading back to his room.

"My wand..." Hermione started, but Draco ignored her, slamming the door behind him when he reached his room.

/

**AN**: Mmm, conflict. Thoughts? Comments? Questions? :D I'm really excited to hear what all of you think about this chapter!

For those who asked why Draco gave Hermione more of the potion: It's because she was in withdrawals, having been exposed to such an addictive substance. Draco sees her as slightly bothersome, and not all that useful in that state, so he opted to ween her off of it rather than let her ride it out. However, seeing as the stock was destroyed, I get the feeling we're about to see some interesting behaviour from Hermione.

Next chapter involves more Blaise, particularly his back story, for those of you who are fans! I hope to have it up by Sunday! See you then! :D


	11. Complications

**The Agreement  
**Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Eleven**: Complications

**AN**: As I was writing the last chapter I was like, "Yay! Revealing major plot point! Woo!" But then no one commented on it. XD Nevertheless, I greatly enjoyed hearing from you guys! You make my day every time! :D

Special thanks to **bookoholic me**, **IGOTEAMEDWARD**, **starlight-x-A-x**, **Aletto**, **Pixie-Fate**, **-typing-pictures-**, **Stella Cosmopolita**, **HPfan29**, **Hans153**, **Anonymous**, and **Bunny115**. I especially enjoyed Bunny's story about how her son didn't cry at birth, but instead stuck his tongue out at her and peed. XD Also thanks to all of the alerts and faves I recieved!

/

Hermione growled in irritation, pulling the top two buttons on her blouse open as the temperature in the manor continued to climb. Why the hell was it so damn hot? She turned her attention back to the books spread out in front of her in Draco's study, trying to force herself to focus.

After a few seconds she gave up, unbuttoning her shirt the rest of the way to shrug it off, draping it over the chair next to her. At first she felt like her camisole might be too skimpy, but then nearly laughed at that worry. It had been three days since the incident after the gala, and Draco had skillfully avoided her. There was no one around to see her, and so what if he did? It was his own damn fault for keeping his house so warm.

She leaned over the book closest to her again, furrowing her brow in concentration as she rested her head in her hands.

_"As with apparition, Portkeys allow wizards to move through the fabric of time and space, appearing almost instantly at the alternate point of the caster's choosing. It should be noted that..."_

Who was Draco to ignore her anyway? And on top of that, to forbid her to leave the manor? What did he think she was supposed to do, just sit around and wait for him to call for her? Maybe she had a life of his own, had he ever considered that?

_"It should be noted that..."_

Of course he hadn't considered that. He was just an arrogant, spoiled little brat, upset that someone had gotten the upper hand on him for once. What he had been doing was frowned upon at best, and most likely illegal! So he had decided to punish her for his mess, although it was obvious to anyone with half a brain that she hadn't been involved with Harry's hijinx.

_"It should be noted that..."_

And Harry! How dare he pull those shenanigans under her nose, without warning her? It was his fault she was stuck here now. And why was he worrying so much about bringing Lucius in for things that had happened five years ago when something possibly just as serious was going on right at that moment? It was ridiculous. And since when did Harry do things like this on his own, without talking it over with her or Ron? It wasn't like him to just jump into things like this. Not unless it was serious. Why had he even asked her to come back if he was just going to do all this on his own? If he hadn't asked her to come back, she wouldn't be stuck here now! She'd be happily back at her home, with or without her magic.

_"It should be noted that..."_

But would she? Dean was supposed to be back in the muggle world, wasn't he? So how had she seen him in the Floo. According to the books, she might have seen into another place, but it didn't sound like it by what Dean had said. And why wasn't Harry concerned about that? As far as she could tell, if Dean was in the Floo, it might have something to do with the census, and wasn't that what she had been called back for?

_"It should be noted that..."_

That's right, this was all Harry's fault! But wait, when had she gone from being angry with Draco to being mad at Harry? Well, they were both acting like idiots! Men! She would be better off without them, back home. But even that wasn't completely true, was it? She couldn't remember the last time she had been happy... It was like she couldn't exist happily in the wizarding world or the muggle world. Maybe all of the pureblood bullshit was right - people like her shouldn't be in the wizarding world. It meant that only half of them belonged to each world, didn't it? Wasn't that what happened to her? And Dean? Dean had chosen the muggle world, hadn't he? But he was a wizard...

_"It should be noted that..."_

No, she had done this to herself, right? She had felt like she belonged in the muggle world until she went to Hogwarts, and she felt like she had belonged in the wizarding world untill after the war. It was her own fault for leaving.

_"It should be noted that..."_

Now she was blaming herself? She nearly sobbed in frustration, and slammed her book shut angrily as she realized she had been reading the same half of a sentence for nearly twenty minutes. This wasn't helping her figure out what had happened to Dean. But then, even when she could focus she wasn't finding anything useful about the Floo Network in the Malfoy library. She knew she had seen text before on how the network worked, but she couldn't remember anything specific. It had been in third year, when she first got her Time-Turner. But she hadn't paid much attention, as the book hadn't contained much information on Time-Turners. She wished she had now.

She smoothed her hair back, wiping the sweat from her brow, trying to calm down.

"Bit stressed?" a voice asked from the doorway and Hermione jumped, not having heard the door open. Blaise was leaning against the facing, his usual robes abandoned in favour of a sleeveless top and shorts. The dark hair framing his face was damp with sweat.

"Duh," Hermione said irritably. Blaise smirked at her.

"Just the response I would expect from the smartest witch in our year when she's got her research face on," he drawled, walking towards her and taking a seat in front of the desk. "_Duh_."

"I'm irritated," Hermione said unapologetically.

"Unsurprising," Blaise said.

"Why is it so hot in here?" Hermione asked. "You'd think a giant drafty stone house like this would be freezing this time of year."

"Oh it is," Blaise replied. "We're both in withdrawals. I'm surprised you haven't gotten sick yet."

"Yet?" Hermione asked warily.

"Oh yeah, give it time," Blaise said. "Before long you'll be curled on the washroom floor, feeling like a hinkypunk is trying to claw its way out of your stomach."

"Great," Hermione groaned. "Isn't there any way to stop it?"

"Well, the potion," Blaise said. "_Duh_."

"I meant other than that. You know it's all been destroyed."

"You know how to make it."

"I'm not making any more of it," Hermione snapped. "Why did Draco even make that potion?" she asked, letting her head fall back to rest against the back of her chair. "It doesn't seem to have caused anything other than problems. And all for what? A _lust_ potion?"

"Well, it wasn't originally supposed to be a lust potion," Blaise said. "And he made it to save Pansy's life."

"This potion saved Pansy's life?" Hermione repeated, sure she must have heard him wrong.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Blaise confirmed. "You see, by all rights, Pansy and I should not be stuck with each other. We don't like each other. We don't even get along."

"It can't be all bad," Hermione said. "I mean, you got Zane out of the deal, right?"

"No," Blaise said, smiling. "I got _Pansy _out of the deal. Zane would have been born whether or not we bonded."

"So why did you two bond?" Hermione asked. Blaise shrugged.

"Family properiety and all that I suppose," he said. "Anyway, it was pretty bad for the first few years, but that's to be expected. But then one night..."

/

_"I'm home!" Blaise announced, dusting his robes off. No one answered him. He shrugged it off at first, assuming that Pansy wasn't talking to him again. It wasn't unusual, given that they fought almost daily. She may have even gone to her parents. _

_"Edy," Blaise called, a loud crack following his words to announce the house elve's arrival. "Did your mistress leave a message when she left?"_

_"No, sir," Edy said, twisting his hands nervously. "Mistress left no message but..." He stared up at Blaise with large, frightened eyes. Blaise groaned._

_"Edy, you will tell me whatever it is you're hiding," he commanded. "Remember, I am the master of this house."_

_"The young master is very upset," Edy blurted. Blaise froze._

_"Zane is home?" he asked. Zane was only three at the time, he shouldn't have been home if Pansy was gone._

_"Mistress asked Edy to keep an eye on the young master. Mistress left quite suddenly and the young master was upset, and Mistress wouldn't stop yelling, and Edy was just doing what he was told, Master," Edy said in a rush. _

_"Where is Zane, Edy?" Blaise growled. Edy took a step back, his eyes watering as Blaise towered over him. _

_"E-Edy is a good elf," Edy said pleadingly. "Edy was just doing as he was told, Master."_

_"WHERE IS MY SON, EDY?" Blaise bellowed. The elf cowered, this hands clasped protectively over his large head._

_"Y-Young master is out in the g-garden," Edy stuttered, visibly shaking. Blaise hurried past the elf to the back door. He could see Zane through the glass, sitting on a stone bench in the garden, as the elf had said._

_"Edy kept the young master safe, Master," Edy continued, his voice still pleading. _

_"Go away, Edy," Blaise growled before wrenching the door open and walking out to Zane. _

_"Daddy," the little boy said quietly when he saw Blaise. He looked up and Blaise sucked in a breath at the sight of his face. A light purplish bruise was spreading across his cheekbone, the rest of his face red and tear-stained._

_"Zane, are you okay?" Blaise asked, squatting down in front of his son, moving his hair out of the way to get a better look at his face. _

_"I made Mommy mad," Zane said. "I didn't mean to."_

_"I'm sure you didn't do anything," Blaise said. "Mommy's a very angry woman."_

_"What's a mistake?" Zane asked abruptly. Blaise wrinkled his brow, surprised at the sudden turn in conversation._

_"Well, it's something that you did, that you wish you hadn't, because something bad happened when you did it," he said. Zane's lip trembled. _

_"Am I mistake?" Zane asked. Blaise worked to keep his face calm as his temper rose. _

_"Is that what Mommy told you?" he asked. Zane nodded and Blaise exhaled slowly, feeling his grip on his temper slipping._

_"You're not a mistake," Blaise said softly. "You're the best thing that's happened to Mommy and me. She's just-" an uncaring bitch "- a little upset right now, and she said something that she didn't mean." _

_Zane nodded, his lip trembling, and Blaise stood. _

_"Edy will help you get ready for bed," he said. "I'm going to find Mommy and we're going to have a talk about this." Zane nodded again as Edy appeared at the mention of his name. Blaise pulled Zane into his arms for a quick hug. "I love you," he assured his son before letting him go._

_"Do you think Mommy still loves me?" Zane asked, and Blaise felt his heart break._

_"Of course she does," Blaise said. Zane smiled and gave Blaise one last hug before following Edy back into the house. Blaise watched him go and waited for a moment before letting out a roar of anger, spinning on his heel and brandishing his wand at a set of rose bushes a few meters off. The bush burst into flame, quickly burning into nothing but a smoldering pile of ash. _

_"Effy!" he bellowed, hearing a crack that announced the immediate arrival of Edy's sister. _

_"M-Master called?" Effy stuttered, twisting her hands in her tea towel. _

_"Where is your Mistress, Effy?" Blaise demanded, causing the elf to jump. _

_"E-Effy doesn't k-know, Master," Effy answered, her voice rising in terror._

_"Find her!" he ordered. Effy squeeked and, after a few shaky tries, snapped her fingers and disappeared with another loud crack._

/

"It got pretty ugly after that," Blaise said, leaning back in his chair and resting his feet on the table. Hermione glared at him for a moment and pulled one of her books out from under his heel. "You know that each family has different bonding rules, right?" he asked, ignoring her aggitation.

"Right," Hermione grumbled.

"Well, the Zabinis have a few rules of their own, but the main one is that you are bonded forever. Unlike some of the older families, there are no loopholes created by modern magic, and no way out," Blaise explained. "Unless, of course, someone dies."

Hermione dropped her quill in surprise at what Blaise was implying.

"You don't mean you were actually going to kill her?" she asked. Blaise just blinked at her. "But, she's your wife!"

"That doesn't mean anything in our situation, except that I'm stuck with her," Blaise said. "Maybe it's hard to understand just by hearing the story, but at that point I had been through almost four years of hell with her. She had begun abusing my child, the one thing in the world that I love, and that she should have, by all rights, loved as well."

"But killing her..." Hermione said, trailing off as she searched for words.

"Is a little extreme?" Blaise supplied. "Yeah, that's what Draco thought, too. So he suggested a potion that Malfoy Industries had been working on. In the beginning, the potion was pretty much a love potion with a mild sedative. It was actually intended to be marketed as a marital aid of sorts. But well, there were problems with it."

"What sort of problems?" Hermione asked.

"Well, as a generic love potion, it wasn't strong enough to overpower my bond with Pansy," Blaise said. Hermione looked at him blankly. "The bond encourages fidelity, so I could only... satisfy the potion with Pansy," he elaborated.

"Oh," Hermione said in understanding. "And you don't want to sleep with Pansy."

"Well, not exactly. I hate Pansy, sure, but as far as the potion is concerned, sex is sex. I didn't want to risk having another child with Pansy," Blaise said. "But it all leads to the same end. So anyway, Draco had to strengthen the potion, which required more unconventional ingredients. That in turn led to the change in its manufacture and form to a powder, and well... Here we are."

"So this whole potion is a giant fumble," Hermione summarized. "To save an evil woman's life."

"Pretty much," Blaise said, nodding. "But Draco has always had a soft spot for Pansy, even if he doesn't actually _like _her that much. I think he sees her as another casualty of the pureblood upbringing, rather than your average everyday run-of-the-mill bitch."

"That seems strangely nice, for Draco, anyway," Hermione said suspiciously.

"Draco's a pretty nice guy, to be fair," Blaise said. "He's just a bit of a spoiled prat and gets upset when things go wrong."

"Understatement of the century," Hermione muttered.

"Hmm," Blaise hummed, turning his attention to her books. "By the way, you're in the wrong books. Floo works strictly through space, not time. Time continues in the network, it just skips through space. These books have more to do with apparition and Portkeys."

Hermione gaped at him in amazement. She didn't think Blaise wouldn't know anything about this.

"The early potions made me goofy, Hermione, not stupid," Blaise said, laughing. "Give me some credit."

"So, whatever happens in the Floo, is happening at the same time that it would happen outside of the Floo?" Hermione asked. Blaise nodded. "So Dean _was _trapped in the Floo. It wasn't some sort of glitch in time. Although, it would still be worrysome, even if it was happening sometime and somewhere else. But still, he was right there, right then, right?"

"Most likely," Blaise agreed. "What'd he say to you again?"

"He asked if they got me, too, and said that Ginny had told him I was safe. He seemed really scared," Hermione said. "But then Harry pulled me out of the Floo, and I couldn't talk to him anymore."

"Well, there's one way to see if he's in the muggle world or not," Blaise said.

"How?" Hermione asked, interested in his ideas after his last offered bit of information.

"Go to see him yourself," Blaise said. "I mean, you must know your way around there, living there for five years, and the time before Hogwarts."

"Blaise, I lived in England, that doesn't mean I know my way around Wales," Hermione said dully. Blaise shrugged. "I suppose Harry and Ginny would probably have his address, though. I could probably find my way."

"I think you should," Draco's voice sounded from the doorway. Hermione and Blaise both looked up as he strutted in, looking much more pieced together in his robes than either of them, his cold eyes fixed on Hermione.

"You're telling me to leave now?" Hermione asked, surprised. "You don't talk to me for three days, and then you just tell me to leave?"

"You want to stay here?" Draco asked, his expression unchanging.

"No, but I think we have things to discuss."

"I don't," Draco said simply. He reached into his pocket and produced Hermione's wand, holding it out to her. She reached for it hesitantly, worried that it might be a trick, and felt relief wash over her when her fingers closed around it.

"So this is it?" she asked. Draco stared at her for a moment, appearing completely unfazed.

"No, Granger. I, unlike you, have morals and stand by my word. Our agreement stands. You may return in a week. No sooner," he said.

"Why?"

"My parents are coming," Draco said.

"Why does it matter to you if they're coming back?"

"It _doesn't _matter to me if my parents come back," Draco said. "I don't give a damn."

"Then why do I have to-"

"Do you know what it would mean for you if they came back?" Draco snapped. "They wouldn't just be a little disappointed in our relationship, you know. They would _kill you_. And they wouldn't lose any sleep over it."

There was silence for a moment following this announcement and then Blaise cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Harsh, mate," he said, looking from Draco to Hermione.

"Fine," Hermione said, ignoring Blaise. "I'll go, then. It's not like I'd want to be confined to this damned house for another day, anyway."

She slammed another book for good measure and stood up, grabbing her blouse from the chair beside her and stalking past Blaise and Draco, slamming the door of the study behind her.

/

**AN**: I know this chapter was a few days later than planned, and I hope all of you will forgive me! My personal life has been very hectic lately and I fell a bit behind, but I want to assure you that it won't happen again. I may not always be able to promise an update day, but I promise I will keep it if I do give you guys one!

Also, this story is now being posted on Hawthorne and Vine. For those of you who read there as well, please know that I am the one posting it, and please don't report it for plagarism! It's already been reported once. I appreciate you guys watching my back though. XD

So, thoughts and comments on this chapter? I love hearing from you guys! :D


	12. Trap

**The Agreement  
**Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Twelve**: Trap

**AN**: I've been trying to post this chapter for a week now. I hope that most of you heard about the Edit Story features being down and didn't think that I just ditched you guys with no warning! I'm using a work-around provided by **starlight-x-A-x **for now (so much love to her), and I'll try to post as long as it continues working. In case it fails, I'll be cross-posting for awhile on my LJ. The link for that is on my profile!

Thanks to everyone who read the last chapter! I'm glad you guys liked it, for the most part! And special thanks to **MiloKit**, **Alle**, **alina290**, **SunMoonNeko**, **sm**, **Hans153**, **Jade2099**, **Alliy**, **Stella Cosmopolita**, **wow**, **padfootsgrl79 **(interesting solution, btw XD), **4SnowWolf**, and **miztrezboo**for reviewing! I loved hearing from you guys - especially your thoughts on Blaise! :D

The action picks up a bit in this chapter, as you could probably tell from the chapter title, so I hope you guys are ready! Enjoy!

/

Draco watched Hermione storm out of the study, rolling his eyes when she slammed the door behind her. Dramatic witch.

"You and I both know she had nothing to do with Potter's little plan," Blaise said calmly, stretching casually and settling further into his chair. Draco shook his head.

"It's better that she stays made at me for now," he said. "So it doesn't really matter what I know."

"Actually concerned about Granger?" Blaise asked, quirking an eyebrow. "You never cease to amaze me, mate."

"Not that it's actually any of your business, but yes, I'm quite concerned about her," Draco admitted begrudgingly.

"Why?" Blaise asked. "I mean, you've got to admit, it's strange. You two hated each other in school."

"No, I hated Potter, and I hated Weasley and Hermione for acting like his whipped little lapdogs, like he was something great," Draco clarified. "I don't actually have anything against Hermione in particular. On that note, I want you to follow her."

"What? You know I can't leave Zane with Pansy for a week," Blaise said.

"Bring him here, then," Draco said. "I'll watch him."

"Or, you could trail her, and I'll stay here and babysit Lucius and Narcissa, and you can leave my son out of it," Blaise said evenly, his eyes flashing. "I don't know what's going on around here, but neither of those situations sounds safe enough to involve Zane."

"My father will love Zane. He's a perfect example of blood purity," Draco said. That much was true. He didn't really see his father as a threat to Zane, or anyone aside from Hermione, for that matter. "But he'll definitely think something's going on if you're here and I'm gallivanting across Wales."

"Fine," Blaise said, standing and stalking from the room. "But I don't even know where to start, without knowing where Dean lives."

"Start at Andromeda Tonks' place. I hear that's where Ginny's staying after the birth. Hermione will probably go there first, since Ginny would likely have his address," Draco said. Blaise slammed the door, grumbling under his breath.

/

Ginny answered the door when Hermione knocked at Andromeda Tonks' house, Albus Severus cradled in her arms and James peeking out from behind her legs.

"Oh, Hermione," she said, sounding pleasantly surprised. "I'm glad to see you, after what Harry pulled. Honestly, I can't believe him. But we'll talk about that later. Ron and Melaina are visiting and they don't know anything about it."

Hermione nodded, following Ginny into the sitting room. Ron and Melaina were, true to Ginny's word, already there, huddled together on the loveseat, Ron's arm draped over Melaina's shoulder.

"Oh, hello, Hermione," Melaina said, sounding overly happy to see her. Hermione didn't sense an ounce of sincerity in it and decided to ignore her.

"Malfoy finally let you off your leash, then?" Ron asked, his eyes narrowed.

"I need Dean's address in Wales," Hermione said to Ginny, ignoring Ron as well. "I thought I'd go check up on him. See how he's doing," she said, trying to communicate to Ginny without talking that it was about what had happened in the Floo the other night. She hoped Harry had passed that story on, as well.

"Won't Malfoy be upset that you're looking up another man?" Ron continued. Hermione bit her tongue forcibly, glaring at him out of the corner of her eye. She saw Melaina nudge him gently.

"Ron and I just recieved a letter from Dean a couple of days ago, actually," Melaina said, smiling softly. "I'm sorry that he fell under the new rules. It doesn't seem at all fair, really. But he sounds to be doing very well."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Melaina. Something seemed off about the girl, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She seemed different now than she had at the gala, but she couldn't figure out if it was for the better or not.

"At any rate, it might be rude to barge in on him with no notice. Perhaps you should send him a letter first," Melaina continued.

"What problem do you have with me going to see Dean?" Hermione demanded. Melaina looked surprised, and laughed softly.

"Oh, Hermione," she simpered. "There's no reason to get so defensive. I was just suggesting that proper manners should be observed."

"I'll decide that," Hermione said shortly. Melaina smiled apologetically and nodded as Hermione gritted her teeth. "Ginny, could you please give me the address?"

"Of course," Ginny said, rifling through the drawer of an end table for her address book. She pulled a loose slip of paper from the pages and held it out to her. "Give Dean our love, okay?" she asked, smiling. Hermione nodded.

"I'll see you when I get back. I shouldn't be gone long," she said, hugging Ginny quickly before leaving. Once out in the yard, Hermione took her wand from her pocket, focusing on the address and preparing to apparate as closely as she could. She would only be able to go part of the way with magic, as she had never been to Wales.

"Hermione!" she heard Ron call as she tried to concentrate. She exhaled sharply in exasperation, turning to face Ron as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"What do you want?" she snapped. She had had enough of his attitude. It wasn't as though they had been on _bad _terms before; more like they hadn't been on any terms at all. This was about Draco, she knew, and she had had enough of his snarky attitude when he clearly didn't even know half of the story.

"Don't you think you could be a little nicer to Melaina?" Ron asked. Hermione's jaw dropped, her eyes bulging.

"Could _I _be a little nicer to _her_?" she repeated.

"Well, yeah," Ron said, reddening. "I know you're jealous and all, but what we had was years ago, Hermione, and _you_ended it after all. Melaina's only trying to be nice and help, and you're just-"

"You're a sodding idiot, Ronald!" Hermione shouted, turning on the spot before he could answer her and leaving him standing alone, his mouth open in shock, in the front yard.

/

Fourteen hours, two trains, and a cab ride later, Hermione stood outside of a modest two-story house, the number posted by the door matching the address scrawled on the paper Ginny had given Hermione. She raised her hand and knocked firmly, her heart pounding. This was it; she was about to find out whether Dean really had made it back or not.

After a moment she head footsteps and the door opened a bit to reveal a girl, close to Hermione's age by the looks of her, with deep auburn hair and large brown eyes. She looked quizzically and Hermione, and she realized that she had been so taken aback to see this girl and not Dean, that she hadn't said anything yet.

"I'm looking for Dean Thomas," Hermione said hesitantly. Realization dawned on the girl's face and she nodded.

"Oh, you must be one of his friends from school," she said, a knowing look in her eyes. "He's received an unusual amount of letters lately. Is something wrong... over there?"

Hermione gathered that the girl knew about the wizarding world, but didn't seem overly comfortable talking about it. She shook her head, forcing herself to smile.

"No, nothing," she said. "I wonder, could I possibly talk to Dean?"

"Of course," the girl said, standing aside and holding the door for Hermione to enter the house. Hermione stepped inside, looking around at the comfortably decorated house. She let the girl usher her into the living room.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked. Hermione shook her head. "Well, make yourself comfortable, then, I'll get Dean."

Hermione thanked her and watched as she ascended the staircase to the second floor. Once her footsteps faded, Hermione glanced around the room. It looked well-lived in, with an overstuffed couch and armchair, small television, and pictures lining the mantle of the brick fireplace on the far wall.

She approached them carefully, feeling as though she were snooping. Almost every picture featured Dean and the girl, in various settings: the beach, a park, at dinner with a few other people... They seemed like a very loving couple.

But something nagged at the corner of Hermione's mind. Hadn't Dean been sent back here because he was residing in the muggle world and _not _dating anyone? She wrinkled her brow and leaned in closer to the picture nearest her. Now that she looked at it, something was off. The tree behind the girl in the park picture seemed somehow more solid than the girl herself. What could that mean?

She ran her finger over the glass covering the picture and jumped when the image seemed to ripple under her finger. Was it... Was it a glamour?

Hermione's pulse picked up and she felt the blood drain from her face. What was going on here.

"Oh my," the girl's voice came from behind her. Hermione spun just in time to see the girl, her clasped hand held out in front of her, standing in the doorway. Hermione hadn't even heard her come back downstairs. As Hermione stared at her, the skin of her face started to almost bubble.

"Polyjuice," Hermione gasped in realization. The girl opened her hand, dropping a thick black powder. As soon as it hit the carpet at her feet, the whole room was plunged into darkness, rendering Hermione completely blind.

"Levicorpus," the girl called, and Hermione felt her feet fly out from under her as she was held in midair for a moment. After no time, though, she crumpled to the floor as the girl apparently ended the spell.

"Why are you-" Hermione gasped as pain racked her body. A hand twisted in her hair and her face was pressed against the brick hearth as someone knelt beside her.

"Miss Granger," a syrupy sweet voice - completely different from the one the girl had used a few moments earlier - hissed, the hand pressing down harder, her cheek grinding against the brick of the wall. "I had hoped to put this off a bit longer, but it seems you just cannot leave well enough alone, can you?"

Hermione reached for her wand, but another hand grabbed hers in an iron grip.

"Stupefy," the sugary voice said calmly.

/

Blaise heard the loud crack of apparition less than twenty minutes after Hermione had entered the house and cursed under his breath. He hadn't expected her to apparate in a muggle community, and definitely not from within the house.

It didn't feel right. Hermione had lived in the muggle world. She would know better than to use magic there. It was also too soon for her to have had much of a talk with Dean.

Something was going on. He had to find out what.

/

Draco had been in the middle of making his morning tea when the _Prophet _arrived, and almost immediately had to refrain from swearing out loud when he saw the front page article.

**Malfoy Heir Courts Commoner**

"Jaws dropped Friday night at a Ministry event when Draco Malfoy, son of the missing Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, and heir to Malfoy Industries, showed up in the company of none other than celebrated war hero Hermione Granger.

"Thought to be estranged until just over a week ago and living in the muggle world, it would seem as though Miss Granger has been covertly seeing Malfoy for some time - at least that is what she claimed in the recent Ministry registration.

"But why has this not been exposed before? Malfoy is quite prominent in the wizarding community, and Granger is known for flaunting her tastes for famous wizards. This reporter finds it strangely out of character for her to hide such a relationship. Additionally, on the odd occasion that the couple has been observed in public, they seem to be at constant odds with each other, to the point in fact that Malfoy took Granger aside at the gala in order to reprimand her. Indeed, unnamed sources have suggested that this may all be an elaborate ruise of some sort.

"But what exactly is the oddly-matched couple up to? This reporter hopes to bring readers the story in good time."

Draco was not surprised by the contents of the article, given the byline displaying Rita Skeeter's name. Certainly, no one with half a brain would take any of the gossiping tripe she wrote as fact. But really, it had taken her a surprising amount of time to publish such a pointless article.

No, what made him want to curse was the incredibly bad timing. His parents had arrived just the night before.

"I see you've recieved the paper," a voice drawled from behind him. "Quite the interesting article, isn't it?"

"Good morning, Father," Draco said grimly, his mind racing. How was he going to explain this one? He waved his wand quickly to shut the door to the back garden where Zane was playing.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Lucius asked, watching with cold eyes as his son placed the kettle on the stove to boil.

"You know Skeeter," Draco said calmly, settling on the old Malfoy standby of casual denial.

"So you did not escort the mudblood to that event?" Lucius asked. Draco weighed his options. No photograph had run with the article; he could deny the whole thing. But then, it was a little too far-fetched of a story to be completely made up.

"Of course I did," Draco said. There was silence for a moment as the older Malfoy seemed to wait for more.

"I'm anxious to hear your explanation for this..." Lucius trailed off for a moment, his lips curled in disgust as he sneered at the offending article. "This blatant disregard for the values your mother an I worked so hard to instill in you," he finished, dropping the paper onto the tabletop with a light _slap_.

"In case you've forgotten, Father, your values have you and mother on the run while I reside comfortably within the very same society that rejected you," Draco said calmly, eyeing Lucius as the man's hands twitched on the cane that Draco knew concealed his wand.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Draco continued easily. "I'm sure you were traced long ago. It must be hard on you, doing things the muggle way when you have so vehemently protected your magical ways. Now, as I was saying, I am in fact active in society and that comes with certain expectations in the post-war wizarding world. Appearing to date Granger allows people the comforting assumption that I've had a change of heart, and shows me in a more favourable light within certain circles, including with Potter who, as you know, has been tailing you."

Lucius scoffed. Draco rolled his eyes as the kettle started to whistle and he turned his back on Lucius to prepare his tea.

"I don't know why you've dismissed the elves," Lucius said as he watched his son move about the kitchen. "I suppose that's Granger's work, as well?"

"If you'll recall, Father, you killed all of our elves," Draco reminded him.

"And you have not replaced them?"

"I do not feel incapable of handling simple tasks myself."

"Are you trying to bait me, Draco?" Lucius asked, and Draco could practically hear the sneer he was sure he was receiving. Or maybe that just came from years of dealing with the man first-hand.

"I am simply taking part in the conversation as you are steering it," Draco said, although he thought maybe it would be more convenient if Lucius did try to curse him. He doubted that Lucius would actually attempt to kill him, and the trace would summon Potter immediately, instead of at their prearranged time, saving Draco from two more days of this nonsense.

"In that case, I have no further interest in speaking with you," Lucius said coolly.

"Then I suppose we should avoid crossing paths until Thursday," Draco said.

"This employee of ours—" Lucius started.

"Of mine," Draco corrected. "You have laid dormant in this company for five years. While I acknowledge that I do need your help with all of these old contracts, please do not pretend that you actually stand in any position of power."

"I merely wondered," Lucius continued, his lip curling once more as he seemed to hold back what he really wanted to say or do, "if you are absolutely certain that this employee of _yours_ is trustworthy."

"Of course," Draco said, smirking inwardly at the thought of his father's reaction when Potter showed up on Thursday instead of the fictitious Arnold Mallory.

/

**AN**: Well, what'd you think? I can't wait to hear from you guys! I'm actually really excited about your response to this one! :D

Love you all! See you next chapter!


	13. Mistakes

**The Agreement  
**Annaleise Marie

**Chapter Thirteen**: Mistakes

**AN**: This chapter is a bit of a mindfuck, if you pay attention. Get ready! :D

Special thanks to **tfobmv18**, **Calimocho**, **Pixie-Fate**, **Bunny115**, **EmoPrincess21**, **bbspoke1017**, **SunMoonNeko**, **Jade2099**, **Alle**, **MissesProngs**, **mellissa-malfoy12**, **starlight-x-A-x**, **tsuki916**, **softrose**, and **4SnowWolf **for reviewing the last chapter! It means a lot to me to hear from you guys!

/

Blaise strutted through the Ministry halls, the lift having delivered him to the offices of Magical Law Enforcement, doing his best to look as though he belonged there. It wasn't really a secret what side his family had been on in the war, and unlike Draco, Blaise had opted to lay low in the years since.

He reached the Auror offices and approached the desk where a young witch with dark brown hair was seated, shuffling dutifully through a stack of papers.

"Yes?" she asked shortly without looking up.

"I'm here to see Harry Potter," Blaise said, keeping his tone light.

"Do you have an appointment?" the girl asked, now glaring suspiciously up at him through her thick eyelashes.

"I don't need one," Blaise said.

"I'm afraid you do," she answered, smirking. "I believe there's one open in oh, three months."

"Now, Aaliya," Blaise said, dropping his voice and leaning closer to her so that only she could hear him. "I'm very glad that you managed to avoid the raid, but let's not forget that your bosses could still find out about your second job. On that note, you should know that I haven't used the potion in the better part of a week and I am really not in the mood for your nonsense. Understood?"

Aaliya glared at him, her jaw set, but extended her hand to point her wand at one of the doors on the opposite wall.

"Mr. Potter is out right now, but you may wait in his office, if you wish," she said.

"Thank you, love. You know, we really should get together when all of this blows over," Blaise said, smiling confidently before turning his back to her and going into the office. It was empty, true to Aaliya's word, but it was far from still. Potter's office looked like the lovechild of Moody and Dumbledore's offices. A Foe Glass stood against one wall, a Sneakoscope resting on its point, spinning lazily on a small table beside it. Strange silver instruments were set in motion around the room, and a Pensieve shimmered behind the Potter's desk. Blaise wondered how he could possibly manage to get any work done with all of the distractions.

He took a seat in one of the straight-backed chairs in front of the desk, resting his feet on the desk top and leaning back in the chair. He flicked his wand at the nearest strange instrument, causing it to hover into the air.

He gathered a few more and set them spinning around the room, looking for any way to ease his boredom – and, admittedly, his nerves about Hermione – while he waited.

"Zabini," a voice interrupted him from the doorway and Blaise nearly dropped the items he had been enchanting. "How did you get in here?"

"I walked," Blaise said, smirking as he stood and turned to face Potter. The other man glared at him for a moment before stalking past him to his desk, waving his wand to replace the levitating objects in their proper places. He settled into his chair, looking expectantly at Blaise.

"I assume this must be important, for you to force your way into my office instead of just sending an owl or contacting someone in public relations," Potter said.

"I think someone's taken Granger," Blaise said with no preamble. Potter raised an eyebrow doubtfully at him.

"Taken," he said doubtfully.

"I followed her to Dean Thomas' address, and someone apparated away from inside shortly after Granger went in. I checked, and Granger and the girl who answered the door were both gone. There was no sign of Thomas, either," Blaise explained.

"So there were at least two people in the house who could legally apparate, and you think that Granger's been taken because someone apparated?" Potter asked skeptically.

"No, there was actually _one_ person who I know could apparate, one person who's been banned from the magical world and using magic, and one person who I didn't recognize. And I never actually saw Thomas, and given what Granger saw in the Floo, I think he might not have been there in the first place."

There was silence as Blaise let this information sink in, waiting for the alarmed reaction that he had expected from Potter in the first place.

It never came.

"I'm a little busy right now, Zabini," Potter said shortly, seemingly unfazed by Blaise's news as he opened the file on his desk.

"Yeah, I know. Catching the Malfoys, working your way up the Ministry ladder, poking your nose into everyone else's business," Blaise said, sounding bored. "But in case you've forgotten, Potter, Granger happens to be one of your best friends, and one of the only people who's stood beside you through all of your idiotic heroic shenanigans. I think you owe it to her to at least make sure she's alright, don't you?"

He stared at Potter, careful to keep his face blank as the Auror's expression changed from one of anger to shame.

"You're right," Potter finally said. "I'll get some of the guys in the Department of Mysteries to find her, and I'll go get her."

"I think you'll have some competition for that," Blaise said easily, standing up and preparing to leave. "But I like the first part of the plan."

/

"Draco!" Blaise shouted as he burst through the back door of the manor to the garden where the blond was watching Zane blast rose bushes with his toy wand. He almost winced. It was pretty scary that he could do that at four, without a real wand.

"I've figured it out," Draco said idly and for a second Blaise thought that maybe Draco had managed to get a step ahead of him on Hermione's disappearance. "Your son has to be Snape's reincarnation. I mean, look at this!"

Comprehension slowly dawned on his face as he took in the serious expression on Blaise's.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"They've taken Hermione," Blaise said quickly.

"Who? And where? And why are you here and not there?" Draco asked, the small amount of colour in his face draining.

"I don't know," Blaise said. "I've got Potter on it, though!" he added quickly as Draco's expression turned to one of anger.

"Potter?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, bit of a tense meeting, really, but I had no idea how to find her, so..." Blaise trailed off, shrugging. "Potter says he'll go get her when he finds her but I don't know. He was acting a bit off."

"Off?" Draco asked. Blaise nodded before recounting to Draco what had happened.

"I just find it strange," Blaise said. "That he wasn't at all concerned."

"Well, she _could_ have apparated," Draco said. "I don't think it's likely, but it's possible."

"And he called her Granger," Blaise continued. That made Draco fall silent, glaring out across the garden. "Draco?" Blaise asked after a moment.

"That's odd, for sure," Draco conceded. "There's definitely something going on here, Blaise. Time to find out what."

He turned to go back into the house, Blaise following after him until they reached the sitting room fireplace. Draco picked up the jar of Floo powder before turning back to Blaise.

"I'm going to see Potter. I need you to stay here and just make sure that my parents don't leave. I also figure you don't want Zane left alone with them. I'll be back as soon as I can," he said. Blaise nodded.

"Good luck, mate," he said grimly as Draco tossed the powder into the fireplace and stepped into the green flames.

"Ministry of Magic!" he shouted. Grates flew by, ash and warmth swirling around him. Suddenly, something brushed his shoulder and he spun around, nearly shouting at what he saw.

"Potter!" he gasped, catching only a glimpse of the dark haired man before falling backward out of the Floo, landing gracelessly on the hearth at the Ministry.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you alright?" a startled voice inquired and Draco looked up to see Cipolleti staring down at him in his awkward spot on the floor.

"Fine, just got a bit disoriented," he said, standing quickly and brushing off his robes. "I'm sorry to rush off, but I need to see Potter."

"Oh, I don't think Mr. Potter's in his office!" Cipolleti said quickly.

"Then I'll wait," Draco said, continuing towards the lift. "Good to see you, Miss Cipolleti."

When Draco arrived at the Auror office, he nodded to Aaliya, who rolled her eyes and pointed her wand to open the door to Potter's office without argument this time.

Once inside he settled into one of the chairs and waited, trying to ignore the anxiety coiling in his stomach.

/

It was a few hours before Potter returned to his office and Draco was only moments away from breaking every spindly stupid instrument in the place out of aggravation. Potter rolled his eyes as he saw Draco, walking past him to take his seat.

"I see you're still here," he said, shuffling through the papers on this desk. "I suppose it's about Hermione?"

"Have you found out where she is yet?" Draco asked, ignoring Potter's irritated tone.

"Yes. We can trace any wizard's magical signature, assuming they're not taking steps to hide it, like your parents. It's faint if they're not actively using magic, but it's still there. I'll be leaving to check on her shortly," Potter said.

"That's okay, I'll go. Just tell me where it is," Draco said. Potter froze for a moment before returning to his papers.

"If she is in trouble, I think the Auror department is best equip to handle it," Potter said stiffly. Draco narrowed his eyes. It didn't add up. Even if there was a chance that Hermione wasn't in trouble, should the Boy Who Lived be jumping to rescue her? Draco had never known him to hesitate at the chance to perform stupid heroics, whether technically necessary or not. And Hermione was his best friend, wasn't she? It just didn't make sense.

"There's something going on here, Potter," Draco said. "Fortunately for you, I don't have the time to figure out what it is right now. So consider this: Star-crossed lovers battle against all odds for love, and the best friend goes to rescue her while the lover sits at home and babysits his father? Who's reading that novel, Potter?"

The man glared at him for a moment before sighing and slamming down his papers. Draco smirked, revelling in his victory.

"Fine," Potter said, picking up his quill and scrawling an address on a scrap piece of parchment. "This is where she last left a trace. Keep me informed; the department will be on standby if you require assistance."

"Thanks, Potter, but I don't think I'll be needing it," Draco said, taking the address. "I can handle my own, unlike some people."

He turned and left the office before the other man could reply, staring at the unfamiliar address as he went.

/

Hermione hit stone ground with a groan, her body wracked with dry sobs. Her captor had used the Cruciatus curse only twice, but she was already nearly at her wits end. It was becoming more evident that she had lost her edge in the passing years. Bellatrix LeStrange had done much worse, after all, and she hadn't broken.

Maybe it was withdrawals. The nausea had started, true to Blaise's word, and the pain in her gut combined with the curse left her in almost constant pain. Her stomach turned over another time before suddenly she was emptying her lunch onto the stone floor.

"Oh my," a drawling male voice started and Hermione strained to see the faint outline of her captor through the blindfold that had been placed on her. "We've barely started and already you're vomiting? I was hoping you'd be a bit more challenging. You're not at all as impressive as your reputation led me to believe."

Hermione wanted to wipe her mouth, or at least move away from her stomach's contents, but she was bound too tightly. She was left to writhe away as well as she could. The man chuckled.

"Oh, stop," the female who had first cursed Hermione reprimanded the man. "No need to play with her if she's not going to put up a decent fight. Just find out what we need to know."

Hermione felt a strong hand grasp her by her jaw and wrench her face upwards. She felt hot breath on her face and she nearly whimpered at her sudden proximity to the man.

"What were you doing at Thomas' house?" the man demanded.

"I don't... I was just checking on him!" Hermione protested.

"We ignored your lies about your relationship, but now you're becoming a little too troublesome. Now what were you doing?" the man repeated.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Hermione insisted, her stomach twisting again.

"Liar!" the woman hissed.

"Crucio!" the man shouted and Hermione was plunged into pain once more.

"The wards," she vaguely heard the man say, the pain lessening slightly with his concentration.

"I wouldn't worry. It's probably just Potter," the woman said and the pain increased.

_Harry. Harry was coming to save her_. She felt relief wash over her even as she heard herself screaming.

/

Draco was slightly put off by the lack of security at the estate when he arrived. Maybe Hermione wasn't in trouble. If something sinister was going on, then certainly they'd be trying harder to cover it up, wouldn't they?

He paused when he got to the door, a little confused. Was he supposed to knock? If there had been guards, or any sort of security, he would know to just bust in, but this... Maybe he would just be forcing his way into someone else's home?

As he was pondering this the door opened of its own accord, startling Draco, who immediately went on guard, whipping his head around to see who had been responsible. He looked down when he heard a slight squeak.

"M-Master Draco!" an old house elf said, visibly shaking. It took Draco a second to recognize him.

"Tibby?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Tibby is a bad elf! But he had to run, Master Draco, he had to! After Master killed the other elves Tibby knew he had to—"

"Tibby, listen," Draco said, interrupting the elf. "Is a witch named Hermione Granger here?"

"T-Tibby cannot say, Master Draco! He cannot!" the elf answered shrilly. Draco was puzzled. The elf was still referring to him as 'Master', but he didn't seem to have to obey him.

"Tibby, who do you serve?" Draco asked suspiciously.

"Tibby left the Malfoy house, Master Draco, but Tibby was not freed. Tibby is now here, serving the Mistress... Tibby cannot disobey her orders or the Malfoy's orders," the elf explained. Draco nodded. That made sense. Tibby belonged to both masters.

"Fine, Tibby. Then I am going to look around a bit. You are not to tell anyone, including your Mistress, that I am here, understand?" Draco commanded. Tibby nodded vigorously and scurried away. Draco stepped carefully into the entry hall, drawing his wand and staying close to the wall as he went, pausing to listen at each door as he passed it.

There was no noise at any of the doors, but one almost seemed to vibrate slightly, a sensation that Draco had learned to associate with magic. He touched the doorknob carefully, careful not to make any noise as he opened it.

It didn't matter. As soon as it opened, shrill screams shattered the air. Screams that he knew well.

The room was dark, with the exception of a few beams of light filtering through a high window on the far wall – just enough light to see. It was strange; it seemed like a scene of horror such as this one should happen at night, or at least during an overcast day. Even the small bit of light seemed cheerful.

There were two cloaked figures, one very tall, the other very short, one male, one female. Their backs were to them, and in front of them, on the ground, was Hermione.

Draco's heart stopped when he saw her bound and blindfolded, sobbing openly on the floor as the man held her at wandpoint, torturing her. Every few seconds a long scream would tear through the air.

He weighed his options. He could take out the man before he was noticed, breaking the curse on Hermione, and then duel the woman. Maybe he could take out the woman, and in the pause it would take the man to lift the curse on Hermione to curse Draco, he could get him as well.

Hermione writhed, twisting on the floor to face Draco, although she couldn't see him, her mouth open in another scream, and then it seemed it was over. She panted, the blindfold saturated with her tears as she whimpered. The man grabbed her by the hair, pulling her up to him.

"Are you ready to talk now?" he asked, his voice low and menacing. Hermione seemed to struggle, and for a moment Draco thought it was surely in vain, but then he heard a loud crack. Draco winced, Hermione screamed in pain, and then the man stumbled back as Hermione's fist collided with his face. Her other hand looked strangely mangled, and Draco realized what happened.

Hermione had broken her left wrist to get out of her binds, and hit the man with her good hand.

Her victory didn't last long, however. She reached up to pull off her blindfold and caught a glimpse of Draco. She gasped, distracted, and that gave the man the chance he needed. He pulled his fist back, apparently not caring about magic anymore, and slammed it into her face.

Hermione crumpled at the same time that the woman turned to look at whatever had caught Hermione's attention. Draco, distracted by Hermione, shouted out the first curse he could think of.

"Densaugeo!" He didn't know why he picked that one, and he realized what a horrible choice it was as the woman's teeth began to grow. The man spun around, now aware of Draco's presence.

"Stupe—" he began.

"Duro!" a weak voice interrupted and the man froze. Draco blinked and looked down at Hermione, who was now a few feet to the left of where she had fallen, her wand clutched in her good hand.

"Draco!" she gasped, her eyes flickering to the woman. Draco followed her gaze. The woman, her teeth now roughly the size of a walrus', had her wand trained on Draco.

"Avada—"

"Avada—"

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione interrupted both of them, and Draco felt his wand leave his hand. "Stupefy!" she shouted quickly, and the woman hit the floor in a crumpled heap. Hermione collapsed, breathing heavily and whimpering slightly as she brought her broken wrist up to her chest, cradling it pathetically.

Draco took a second to catch his breath, surveying the scene of destruction. He felt somehow shamed at how much better Hermione had handled it, even under duress.

"Draco," she whimpered. "Help me."

/

Harry stepped out of the Floo, scanning the room quickly. Malfoy Manor was quiet, but he knew better. There were at least two people here.

He smirked. He hoped Lucius would cooperate without giving up the game.

But then, Lucius wasn't the quickest of sorts. He'd have to let him in on it soon.

/

Draco sat at the foot of Hermione's bed at the Leaky Cauldron, waiting for her to wake up. She had passed out before they had reached safety, but Draco thought it was probably for the best – he had had to heal her herself, deciding that St. Mungo's might not be safe with her captors still on the loose, and he had heard her wrist snap nastily once more when he healed it. Her lip was swollen from the man hitting her, and cut, probably from a ring.

He felt ashamed. He had gone to save her, but he had botched that pretty badly. She had really been the one to save them both. All he had really done was distract her captors long enough for her to get to her wand.

Maybe that was enough, he thought as she stirred, groaning. Maybe she would thank him? Or at least not yell at him?

He doubted it somehow.

She opened her eyes blearily, taking in her surrounding as she sat up quickly, gasping as pain shot through her.

"Draco," she whimpered.

"It's okay," he said. "We're safe."

"I thought it was a dream," she said. "I hoped... But it wasn't." She paused, her alarmed expression turning to one of anger. "How could you do that?" she demanded before collapsing back on her pillows, wincing. Shouting seemed to hurt her.

"What?" Draco asked, surprised.

"You just stood there and watched what they did," Hermione muttered. Draco got the feeling that her low volume was more due to the embarrassment that the lisp from her swollen lip caused than her temper. Indeed, if she could, he just knew that she'd be yelling loudly enough to alert her neighbours.

"I acted as quickly as I could," he said lamely, running his fingers through his hair as though it would soothe his frazzled nerves.

"You acted like a coward," Hermione corrected him coldly. "But then, I guess I shouldn't really be surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco asked, keeping his voice low as his temper grew.

"You've always been a coward," Hermione hissed. "This is just like what happened back in the war."

Draco took a deep breath as the memories of what happened when the Golden Trio had been brought to the manor washed over him. He felt a faint tinge of nausea take over him and he forced it back down before replying.

"This is nothing like that," he protested. Hermione scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Please," she said as she crossed her arms over her chest. "This is exactly like that."

"I see," Draco muttered. "So that's how you see me, is it?"

Hermione remained silent, glaring at him as she clenched her jaw in fury. Draco took a deep breath, steadying himself, hiding how much what she said had really affected him.

"I suppose I'll go, then," he said, standing and walking to the door. "You may return to the manor when you feel well enough, if you still require my help. Otherwise, I suppose this is where we part ways. Goodbye, Hermione."

He left her room, pausing at the table by the front door to set a blank white card on it.

He hoped she would return.

He hated that he hoped she would return.

/

**AN**: Guesses on what Harry's up to? I'll give you a hint: It's probably not what you think!

I look forward to hearing from you all! Thanks so much for reading! The preview for chapter fourteen will be up on my livejournal tomorrow! The link is on my profile!


End file.
